


The Last Night

by FallenShandeh, Iloveswedishdjs



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Demon!Dean, Eventual Smut, F/M, FallenShandeh lives off comments and replies to all of them, Light Bondage, M/M, Plot Twists, Unbeta'd, Wing Kink, definite ooc!gabriel, falling!cas, guaranteed or your money back, lots of plot twists, please comment and critique, possible ooc!cas
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-07 07:25:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 27,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1890144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FallenShandeh/pseuds/FallenShandeh, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iloveswedishdjs/pseuds/Iloveswedishdjs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cas is Falling, almost entirely out of Grace. Dean's a demon and Cas has second thoughts about becoming human as a result. The thought of being unable to heal his friends gets to him.</p><p>Cas has decided that free will is pretty awesome, and it isn't worth losing to get his Grace back. The good news is, he found a way to restore his Grace without losing the free will he's gained. The bad news is that the solution he found doesn't work very often, and if he fails, his Fall won't halt on Earth. He'll lose his free will anyway... and become one of Lucifer's servants.</p><p>There's a solid chance that even if he DOES succeed, it won't go according to plan. He doesn't have time to be particular. He just has to take what he can get, and that's a bit awkward. He's gotten very used to hearing Jimmy Novak's voice when he speaks, seeing Jimmy Novak's face in the mirror. He thinks of himself as male now, but Jimmy Novak's rebuilt body won't survive what Cas is planning, and he's not going to have time to choose his new Vessel. There's a fifty-fifty chance that he'll have to change the spelling of his name from Castiel to Castielle.</p><p>And there's one more thing. How the hell is he supposed to help Sam make Dean human again?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I will start by saying I HAVE NO IDEA HOW THIS IS GOING TO TURN OUT.
> 
> I have a few vague plot ideas but not much specific. I know Crowley and Luci are going to turn up, but not how or when. I know there'll be a lot of pain and a bit of violence, and maybe some deaths. I don't know how many chapters there are going to be. I'm aiming for over 50,000 words total. I don't know exactly how many there will end up being.
> 
> The first chapter is quite long by my standards. I can't tell you if things will stay at around this length or if I will drift backwards to my usual 1300-2000 words per chapter.
> 
> This chapter was beta read by my lovely girlfriend [iloveswedishdjs](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Iloveswedishdjs) but the story as a whole will probably be unbeta'd because I'm too impatient to wait.

Sam was hurt. Sam was dying. And then he wasn’t. He was laughing, and smiling, and everything was fine.

Except everything _wasn’t_ fine. Cas leaned heavily against a wall, dark circles beneath dull eyes making him look every single day of his however many thousands of years.

Dean looked between them, torn. Sam was okay. Cas was not. Something was wrong.

“Don’t look at me like that, Dean,” Cas growled, pushing away from the wall. The angel’s expression was tired, instead of his usual bemused focus.

“You kidding me, Cas? You look exhausted.”

“I might have used a little more Grace than I intended. I am, however, to use a human phrase… ‘fine’. You should worry less about me and more about yourself.”

Dean shrugged. He was well aware that Cas knew he was hardly sleeping anymore, but someone had to be awake in case something decided to attack while they were vulnerable. They couldn’t even demon-proof anything anymore. And whose fault was that? His own. It wasn’t like he even needed that much sleep anyway. He was a demon, for Crowley’s sake! “No way. You’re using too much Grace. You’ll Fall faster.”

“Maybe I want to,” Cas muttered.

Dean pretended not to hear.

Cas watched Dean watching him. Those pitch-black eyes didn’t bother him anymore, though he did miss the green.

“Cas, you gonna fall asleep on me, man?”

Cas blinked. “Dean, angels do not sleep.”

“The fuck do you know about Falling angels, Cas? Maybe Falling angels do!”

“I was a warrior for the Lord once, Dean. I know all there is to know about Falling. I am not so far gone that I require sleep.”

Dean raised one eyebrow, obviously unconvinced, but fell silent.

Cas shook his head and stood, not without effort.

“Where’re you going?”

“Out,” Cas snapped. He was tired of being stared at.

“In this storm? Cas-”

“I might be Falling, Dean, but I am still an angel.” Without another word he shouldered his way out the door. It didn’t take long for the storm to swallow the bunker behind him.

His trenchcoat and his tie whipped around him and he had to lean into the driving wind to keep his feet. He lacked the Grace to transport himself, so he had to go the slow way. Even for an angel brimming with Grace this storm would have been difficult to navigate, and more than once, Cas found himself uncertain as to his location. He was not lost - no, angels did not get lost. He knew roughly where he was and which direction he was headed. The storm simply made the landscape unrecognizable, and so he found it difficult to pinpoint his exact location.

Finally, the wind blew him off his feet and into the side of a building. His Grace automatically tried to heal the bruises. Cas scrambled to control it. He couldn’t afford to lose Grace for something as trivial as a few bruises.

It was starting to become difficult to maintain his Vessel, and he didn’t want to destroy this one. He was rather fond of the Jimmy Novak he had rebuilt, with its small improvements.  And one major one.

The ability he found himself calling on now. The ability to physically manifest his wings.

It hurt, growing the wings out of this body. Cas hissed a low oath in surprise. Pain was an unfamiliar sensation. Reflexively, he fought for control of his Grace, but he wasn’t injured, so it didn’t try to heal him.

Cas edged around to the other side of the building, looking for some way to break the wind so he could get off the ground without risking death. Or a broken wing.

The building turned out to be sufficient. With two solid flaps, he gained enough altitude not to be thrown into a tree when the wind buffeted him. He didn’t have much control of his direction of travel, but he could _sort of_ steer himself around obstacles, and he _sort of_ had control of his altitude.

This was irresponsible and stupid and he knew it well, but he welcomed the sharp pain when he miscalculated and clipped something with a wing. He welcomed the rush of something that wasn’t quite adrenaline - a uniquely human reaction to fear - but was a similar sensation.

More than anything else, he welcomed the excuse to be _afraid_.

Falling was terrifying, but he needed to hold it together. For Dean’s sake. For Sam’s sake. Now, buffeted by this storm, going God-only-knew-where, he had a good reason to be afraid. He could allow himself to feel his fear, while justifying that it was nothing at all to do with his Fall from Grace.

Eventually, the storm spat him out. He tumbled and dropped a good hundred yards, only regaining control of his flight seconds before he would have hit the ground.

That might have been a little painful, considering he couldn’t instantly heal himself anymore. Couldn’t instantly heal _anyone_.

Cas had never felt so _useless_.

He wheeled slowly in the sky, seeking landmarks to regain his bearings. It appeared the storm had moved past the bunker. With a little reluctance, he adjusted his course and headed back. He wasn’t completely certain of Sam’s healing. It had taken four times as much Grace as Cas had expected. Perhaps it was incomplete even after that. He needed to make sure.

That was what he told himself, but he knew full well that the reason he was heading back already was different.

Dean might have been turned into a Knight of Hell but that didn’t mean the Profound Bond was broken. Cas could only get so far away before an almost magnetic pull drew him back. The farther depleted his Grace became, the harder it got to ignore.

He alighted in the field near the bunker, shook out his wings, and tried not to notice that a couple of feathers fell away.

There was so much the bunker was undefended from now, Cas thought. Banishing sigils were not an option, and wouldn’t be until Cas burned the last of his Grace away. Demonproofing was impossible and pointless when one Winchester was a demon. It was hard to ghostproof, because a lot of ghostproofing also affected demons.

He swore in Enochian and stepped towards the door. His Winchesters were more vulnerable than he wanted them, especially considering he could heal no one. He wasn’t even certain he had enough Grace to heal his own bruises - or enough to clean and straighten his feathers. And considering it took a spectacularly tiny amount of Grace for an angel to maintain his wings, that was kind of terrifying.

Dean, having seen the wings before, didn’t react to their presence the way Sam did (with gaping and stares). It was the shape they were in that bothered him. “Damn, Cas. Told you going out in that storm was a bad idea.”

Cas raised one shoulder. “I am fine, Dean.” His wings shifted, feathers rustling. One of them was pointing in almost completely the wrong direction and he couldn’t reach it to straighten it. It was quite uncomfortable.

“How did you even fly with them in that shape?” Dean reached out for one enormous black wing. Cas tried not to let it move, but the instinct never to allow a demon to touch his wings was too strong. It snatched itself away.

“An angel wing is more efficient than a bird wing. They can carry me in worse shape than this.” Cas shuffled his feathers again and moved to sit on the floor, pulling one wing around in front of him so he could straighten the majority of the feathers. “Sam, would you mind straightening the feathers I cannot reach?”

Sam was acting in a very un-Sam-like manner, Cas thought, watching the human gape at him. He was as close to human himself as he had ever been and still found himself utterly confused when his Winchesters - mostly Sam now - acted in a manner with which he was unfamiliar. This dumbfounded gaping was… he had never seen Sam act like that.

“I can do it,” Dean offered.

“No,” Cas said too quickly, with a little too much… _humanity_ in his voice.

He had wanted to be human, for a time. For Dean’s sake. Now he did not. If not for his Fall, it might have been possible to cure Dean. Make him human again.

Maybe.

If such a thing _was_ possible, it would take incredible amounts of Grace. More than Castiel had ever possessed. Perhaps more than any angel had ever possessed.

Sam finally moved to sit down behind him and work on the small feathers that Castiel physically could not reach. Cas finished his right wing and moved on to his left. A few more feathers came away in his hands. Again he tried not to notice.

Losing feathers was not a good sign. He couldn’t contain his wings and maintain his Vessel at the same time, and yet he couldn’t trust that he would be able to keep them in physical form.

Sam tugged gently on a feather. “This one is broken.”

“Pull it out.”

Sam’s fingers moved for a better grip. Cas grit his teeth and locked his jaw. This was going to hurt. Sam yanked the feather out. Cas’s wings spasmed and he couldn’t contain a strangled cry of pain.

A worried Dean knelt in front of him. “You’re Falling faster and faster, Cas. Look at you. You look like a human who hasn’t slept in a week. You’re not able to separate yourself from your Vessel, so you feel his pain. I don’t know what this shit with losing feathers is about but it obviously bothers you. Is there any way to reverse this?”

Cas shook his head. “Before I healed your brother I might have been able to, but I haven’t the Grace left to return to the Heavens.”

“Dammit, Cas!”

“What if I talk to Gabriel?” Sam asked.

“Gabriel? He might be able to help. I would be thankful if you could try.” Distracted, Cas didn’t notice Dean’s hands going for his wings until it was too late to move away. This touch was different to Sam’s. Warmer, and it sent a thrill down his spine. He hadn’t expected that. A low whimper escaped before he could even try to contain it.

“I’m sorry, did that hurt?” There was nothing but concern on Dean’s face. It was oddly incongruous with his demonic nature.

“Y-yes,” Cas lied. Lying still felt strange, and he suspected it always would. He just didn’t want Dean… or anyone… to know that he didn’t know why he had made that sound.

“Bullshit.”

Well, he hadn’t expected the lie to work. Dean knew him too well, and he had never been very good at speaking words that were not entirely true anyway. Intense pitch-black eyes stared into his own blue pair, looking, Cas knew, at his true form. A much smaller and more human creature than he had ever been before.

“Thought you told me you were the size of the Chrysler building,” Dean said with a low chuckle. A shiver ran down Cas’s spine. Dean had never sounded so demonic.

“I was.”

“You’re not much more than human.”

“I know.” Cas tried not to let on how much that bothered him.

“Then we don’t have much time. Sam, go summon your angel.”

Cas felt Sam’s agreement, and the taller Winchester rose and jogged out the door, snatching the keys to the Impala on the way. Dean stared at Cas a little longer, then moved around behind the Falling angel.

“I’m finishing straightening your feathers whether you like it or not,” he growled. “Even if I have to light a ring of holy oil around you.”

Cas wasn’t actually certain how well holy fire would hold him now. He was still an angel, yes, but only barely.

This time, Dean’s hands on his feathers sent a sensation not unlike another’s Grace zinging through his every nerve. Cas had no idea what that meant. It was a human sensation, but the crackly warmth was not entirely different to the many times he had been healed by another angel in the wars against Hell.

Except he wasn’t being healed, his Grace wasn’t being restored, and it put thoughts into his head that both terrified and excited him.

He didn’t care that Dean was a demon. Those hands on his wings were nearly enough to send him into a frenzy.

Was this… was this what humans called ‘chemistry’? Heavens help him, it was such a strange thing that he should want to do delicious, sinful things with Dean, but he couldn’t have fought the feeling if he’d tried.

Dean’s fingers found a particularly sensitive spot and Cas squirmed. The demon’s touch wasn’t even that light but it sent a tickly sort of zingy feeling shooting through both Cas’s wings and then down his spine into a place low in his pelvis.

And something stirred. Cas had felt his Vessel respond to human beauty - male _and_ female - many times, but this was different. This was his own reaction. The intensity of it left him breathless. He wrenched his wing out of Dean’s hands, cursing violently in Enochian.

This was very unangelic of him. If he wanted to halt his Fall… much less actually _recover_ from it… he needed to stop feeling these sinful wants.

He loved Dean. He had loved Dean for a long time. Since raising his green-eyed Winchester from perdition, there was something that drew him to the human in a way no Holy Directive ever could. And love was okay. Sin, however, was not. And the sin to which he mentally referred was not the human notion that same-sex relationships were abhorrent - Cas was a celestial being and had no gender; he could choose a female Vessel and think of himself as female if he wished. He was simply… not closely enough bound to Dean to allow himself these kinds of thoughts.

“Cas?”

He twisted to look at Dean, whose expression mirrored his own. Eyes wide, lips parted, cheeks a little flushed… Images ran through his mind again, such sinful thoughts; he should not have enjoyed them as much as he did.

His voice was a little shaky when he finally said, “Thank you, Dean.”

Feathers rustling, he got awkwardly to his feet. No more thoughts of that nature. He would not allow himself to want that.

“Hey. Cas. What’s up?” Dean frowned and Cas found himself thinking about how wrong that was, how the Winchester should smile. After everything they had all been through, finding reasons to smile was the only way they could survive.

Even Cas, who normally didn’t feel much of anything.

Cas forced himself to respond to Dean’s question the way Dean would expect him to, with a bemused stare. “What do you mean? The sky is up. The Heavens are up.”

“Come on, Cas, you’ve learned human-isms. Don’t play dumb with me.”

Perhaps he had taken the befuddlement a step too far. It was time to try something else. “I do not wish to discuss it.”

That was not quite how he had heard humans express the sentiment, but it was the truth and it seemed to work. Dean shrugged and turned away, going back to what he had been doing while Cas was out. Which, on the surface of it, appeared to be sitting and staring out the bunker’s only window.

Cas fiddled with the radio until he found a classic rock station. Dean’s love for the genre had rubbed off on him. Absently, he started to hum, and then to sing, not paying much attention to what he was actually singing.

Dean barked a laugh when he realized what Cas was singing along to. _Highway to Hell_ was a great song, but the last thing he ever expected to hear coming out of Castiel’s mouth.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know where I'm going with this now :D
> 
> At least for now. At least for Cas's problem. Not sure yet what they're going to do for Dean but I do know it won't be pretty.
> 
> There will be feels coming up!

“He says he can’t promise anything,” Sam announced by way of a greeting. Dean’s eyes flashed green for just an instant before returning to black.

Cas just stared for quite a while. The Winchesters were both waiting for his response, and the silence was becoming uncomfortable, so he shrugged. “I take it, then, that he has returned to the Heavens to speak with our Father.”

Sam nodded. “He wants to help. He just doesn’t know if he can convince God to give you another chance.”

That made sense. An angel returning to the Heavens after beginning to Fall was unheard of. After the number of angels he had killed, Cas didn’t think he would be forgiven.

But then… his Father was happy to forgive humans who showed genuine remorse for their sins. Perhaps He would extend the same forgiveness to an angel who had served Him loyally for millennia.

Or perhaps Cas’s betrayal was an unforgivable sin.

He stretched his wings out as far as he could, only unfolding them halfway before the tips of his long flight feathers touched the walls of the bunker. Then he tucked them close to his back again and shuffled them until the one feather that was still slightly askew settled into a comfortable position.

Another feather fell to the floor. Cas picked it up, pretending to find the rainbows that raced around it fascinating. An oil-slick shine, Dean had commented the first time Cas had manifested his wings. “I would not be surprised if my Father chose not to forgive me. I did turn my back on Him, on my brothers, and on the Heavens. This was my choice. I know not whether a Falling angel has changed his mind before.”

“Wish you’d talk like a human, Cas,” Dean grumbled. “You nearly are one.”

“Dean,” Sam said warningly.

Cas didn’t like the way Dean could sometimes read him like an open book and sometimes seemed oblivious. It felt intentional. The first time Dean had failed to see that Cas was bothered by something had hurt more than he’d been prepared for. Perhaps it was just part of the Fall. There were a few factors that were unique to every angel and the emotional side of things was one of them. Emotions were a human trait and every human was unique.

“We need more pie,” Dean commented, breaking the short but awkward silence.

“I will go and buy it,” Cas volunteered, pulling his trenchcoat on over his wings. “I might be a few hours. If I am longer than you expect, please do not worry about me. I require some time to myself.”

“Okay,” Sam said.

Dean seemed unhappy with the idea of Cas leaving, but said nothing.

Solitude was strangely uncomfortable. Cas shrugged out of his trenchcoat, leaving it folded over a tree branch, and let his wings stretch out to their full span. They took nearly half his weight just from facing into the light breeze. If he moved into an updraft, they might carry him into the sky without him even having to move them.

He let himself imagine, just for a moment, that they could carry him to the Heavens. But a Graceless angel could not traverse the dimensional barrier between Earth and the Heavens any more than a human could.

Cas started and then blushed when Gabriel appeared in the field. Being surprised at another angel’s arrival… he must have been farther Fallen than he thought.

Gabe ignored him and went straight to the bunker.

Cas tucked his wings against his back and fetched his trenchcoat, finally heading for the store.

Dean wasn’t at the bunker when Cas got back. Neither was Gabriel.

“Gabriel stopped by,” Sam explained. “Neither Dean nor Gabe was comfortable with each other’s presence.”

“So where is Dean now?” Gabriel had not stayed long. Cas could feel traces of Grace in the room, but not enough to indicate an extended angelic presence apart from his own.

“Doing something for Crowley, I expect.”

Sam was too calm for that to be the case. Cas found himself wondering what his Winchesters were hiding from him, but decided against asking. “What did Gabe have to say?”

Sam shook his head slowly. “I’m sorry, Cas… Returning to Grace isn’t going to be as easy as asking the Lord for forgiveness. Gabe said He is willing to give you one more chance, but you’ll lose all your memories of us. You won’t remember any of it. On top of that, you’ll be allowed even less free will than your brothers.”

“I do not wish to forget…”

Sam nodded. “I figured you wouldn’t. I’ve been researching. I haven’t found anything yet, but… if there’s anything out there, any way…”

“You will find something,” Cas said, not really believing his own words. He started stuffing pies into the freezer. They wouldn’t all fit so he decided to cook the one that absolutely refused to fit in anywhere, unable to keep himself from drawing an unfortunate parallel between himself and that pie.

Not only did he not fit in as an angel, he didn’t _want_ to.

He didn’t fit into the human world either. Without Dean being human, he wasn’t particularly inclined to try.

Hell and the Heavens both wanted to cook him for not fitting in.

There had to be some way for him to get his Grace back without forgetting… or if not his Grace, then similar powers. It felt strange being unable to perform miracles.

Strangely bored, Cas sat on the couch and started fiddling with his feathers, straightening and smoothing them almost compulsively.

It occurred to him after a while that maybe he couldn’t stop this preening because he wished they were Dean’s fingers.

Dark had long since fallen when the door opened. Cas snapped his head up. Ashes. Dean smelled of ashes.

“What? I was bored,” Dean said with a shrug. “There was a vampire nest a few hundred miles away.”

“Dean…” Cas forced himself to stop preening and folded his hands in his lap. “Did I not tell you to be careful? Not to hunt alone?”

“I appreciate the concern, but dude, it was four vamps and I can use Hellfire.” Dean created a small fireball in the palm of his hand to demonstrate his point. Cas instinctively flinched away from it.

“Gabe got an answer,” he said softly.

“And?”

“I can have my second chance…” Cas trailed off, looking down at his hands.

“But?” Hellfire gone, Dean put a hand on Cas’s shoulder. A little spark zinged across Cas’s skin and he looked up again in surprise.

“I have to give up my free will. And forget… everything to do with you and Sam.” Forgetting Sam, he could live with. Forgetting Dean was unacceptable. “I have decided returning to Grace is not worth the cost.”

“What? No, Cas, there has to be something… some other way…”

Just like that, the cogs started turning in Cas’s mind. A little niggling voice in the back of his head told him that there _was_ something, he remembered it, but it was so many years since he had heard mention that there was too much else to sift through to find it.

“Let me think. There might be something. I must attempt to recall…” That would be uncomfortable. Sifting through memories of times long past was not so bad until Cas had to nudge memories of wars he had fought in. “I will… what is the human phrase… return to you regarding the matter?”

“Get back to me on that. You’ll get back to me on that, Cas.”

“You are saying my name an awful lot, Dean. Is something wrong?” He didn’t understand. It was… very unusual. Not very Dean-ish at all.

“What? No, of course not, I just- shut up, alright?”

Defensiveness.

Interesting.

Cas resolved to put some thought into figuring out what was going on in Dean’s head. After solving his own problem, of course.

Cas sat cross-legged on a chair, staring out the window. Dean watched him, wondering what was going through the angel’s mind. There was a little crease between Cas’s eyebrows and he chewed on his bottom lip pensively. His eyes were glazed, and his wings hung loosely from his shoulders in a way that was slightly concerning but not enough to prompt Dean to interrupt.

One wing twitched and then fluttered a little, a tiny expression of distress. Whatever Cas was thinking about, it was clearly bothering the guy.

Tiny muscle movements came to Dean’s attention, his eyes spotting more of them the longer he watched. It was almost as if Cas was preparing himself to move, then deciding against it, over and over.

After over an hour of watching, it finally clicked. Those tiny movements… The slight shifts of weight and the tensing of arms and legs - and wings - were all things that Dean had seen before. In seasoned fighters while they watched a battle, or in experienced hunters who were training the next generation. Tiny, instinctive, unconscious precursors to actual motions.

Cas was watching combat, and since there was no fighting anywhere remotely nearby, that meant the angel was _remembering_. Dean remembered him once muttering that he had seen things so terrible no human mind could process them without being utterly destroyed, which explained the distress that the angel was trying so hard to contain.

The next thing that registered was that Cas was very close to human. Dangerously close. Dean tore his eyes away, swearing under his breath. What if those memories proved to be too much now?

The oven didn’t want to light. Sam kicked it hard enough to send a loud _bang_ echoing through the bunker.

It was enough to startle Cas out of his reverie. The angel blinked in clear confusion, wings trembling. They stilled when his eyes landed on Dean.

Dean had always found that strange. Cas wasn’t one for displays of sentimentality, but Dean was very obviously his favorite. Before everything had happened and the whole demon thing became a thing, his favorite human. Now, Dean was pretty sure he was the only demon that Cas could stand being near.

And the favoritism over pretty much any human was still there. Still as strong as ever. Weird.

“I’ll light it,” he eventually said to a frustrated Sam, doing so a moment later with a tiny spark of Hellfire. “Don’t you go breaking any toes so soon after Cas nearly burnt himself out for you.” Except it wasn’t for Sam, was it? Cas healed Sam because Dean would be shattered if he lost his little brother.

_“I did it - all of it - for you.”_

All of it.

This was Dean’s goddamned fault and as far as he and Sam could tell, there was nothing he could do about it. Nothing Cas would be okay with, anyway. Nothing Dean was okay with.

A brief chat with Crowley had revealed that it was possible to make Cas into a demon, if they waited for his Grace to burn out. Dean had punched the King of Hell for suggesting such a thing. He had fucking punched the damned King of Hell. Over an angel. He still didn’t know why.

He just knew there was no way in Hell he was mentioning it. Sam would go spare. Cas… he wasn’t sure of Cas anymore. The angel was acting more like a human. It must have been from his lack of Grace.

The fact that he didn’t know how Cas would react to the idea of becoming a demon now scared him more than the idea of that damned fool angel forgetting him. Cas with his full Grace would be horrified if someone suggested such a thing. Nearly-human Cas, scared Cas, might agree to anything, just to stop feeling helpless.

If anyone understood that, it was Dean. Shit, it was why he was a demon. A decision he could not bring himself to regret, exactly, but one that he did wish he hadn’t had to make.

 _Let there be something_ , he thought, watching Cas settle back down near the window. _Don’t make him change. Don’t ever make him change_.

Amidst unpleasant memories of war and killing and carnage, he finally found it. The one thing that could help. The one way to return to Grace that he did not need his Father’s approval for.

Dean would not like it. It was risky. There was a chance, if he failed, that he would Fall farther than simply becoming human. Farther than becoming a _demon_. But… if he succeeded… on the off chance it actually _worked_ …

Cas leapt off his chair and stumbled through a quick explanation - most of it lies - before racing out the door and taking flight. He had preparations to make, materials to gather, and… shit.

He was going to have to fly to Israel. The slow way. There was something he needed that he could only get there.

Dean would _kill_ him if he went on his own.

But how to explain? “I have to go to Israel to get materials for a dangerous ritual that might return me to Grace or might cast me to Hell,” was not exactly going to go down well.

It could be done without the one thing he needed, but… without it… he was even more likely to fail.

Only about an hour and a couple of hundred miles of flight later, Cas had everything but that one thing. He had even, he was ashamed to admit, stolen an ancient book from a private collection. The owner had no idea of its power… and Castiel intended for things to remain that way.

He alighted a little more heavily than he intended on the roof of the bunker. There was a bang and an “OW!” from inside and his feathers rustled in amusement before he affixed the appropriate sheepish grin on his face and dropped down behind Sam, who had rushed out, shotgun in hand.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean growled, shaking his head.

“So you found something, then?” Sam blurted.

“Maybe,” Cas said. “I might have been a little dishonest in the process.” He produced the book he had stolen. “I did not pay for this and I did not find it at a library.”

“The hell did you get that?” Dean stared.

“I’ve been looking for that for ages,” Sam commented. “Seriously, where’d you find it?”

“In a private collection. I do not think the owner understood the power of this book. It contains all angel lore. Everything there is. How to heal an angel, how to summon one, how to… how to kill one. Of course much of it is knowledge I already know, but I need it to check up on one thing. Then you are welcome to it.”

“Dude,” Sam said.

“Son of a bitch,” said Dean.

Cas needed to brush up on the Enochian incantation required to meld himself with a human. It was not a detail he had ever committed to memory. He had a vague recollection of a few of the words, but one word out of place and it would not work.

Without another word he went back to the chair near the window and opened the book, skimming what he already knew. There was a ridiculous amount of that. It would take the Winchesters a long time to get through it all. That worked in Cas’s favor. By the time they knew what he was planning, it would be too late for them to stop it.

That thought made him feel as if he was betraying them, but he shook the feeling off and went back to skimming through the book.

Finally, there it was. The chapter on Nephilim. Cas shifted in his chair, leaning forward over the book with one finger tracing the lines. He was aware of the Winchesters’ idle attention suddenly snapping to acute focus before his own concentration excluded the rest of the world.

 _Nephilim_. An Enochian word that roughly translated to half-angel. Literally, half- _breed_ , but no half-demon had ever been called Nephilim. This was his solution. It was dangerous. It was stupid. But it was his best bet.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... so far... things are sticking around the 2600-2700 word mark. This one is 2770 words.
> 
> Cranky Cas <3
> 
> I'm falling in love with his wings, too. They're almost a minor character now!
> 
> Also, enter the first hints of wing kink. Cas doesn't want me to let things get actually dirty for a little while. He's pretty bloody nervous about what he's planning and trying not to let on and if he and Dean end up fucking now he'll spill everything. *Everything*. And right now, Sam and Dean can stop him.
> 
> But Dean really, REALLY wants me to steer things towards some smut. Soon.
> 
> They're having this roaring argument in my head. Shouting and throwing things. And poor Sam is just, "Fuck this shit, I'm out!"
> 
> It's quite funny actually.

“There is just one catch,” Cas said to Dean just as the sun was rising.

“Hmm? What’re you on about?” Dean was very obviously distracted.

“Halting my Fall. Restoring my Grace. There is one thing that makes the task rather difficult.” Dean wasn’t going to like it. Cas knew that as well as anyone.

“What’s that?”

“There is one item that is absolutely required for the spell to work. The only place in the world it is available is Israel.”

Predictably, Dean did not react well. “Israel?! I’m not fucking flying, I hate flying, you know that, and you’re not taking Sammy anywhere without me!”

“Dean.”

“No, I’m done. I’m so fucking _done_ with this shit!” Dean stood and stormed out, slamming the door behind him so hard that the noise woke Sam and sent him scrambling for a shotgun.

Dean was not usually that obtuse. He was a demon. He could transport himself near-instantly. There was no need for _him_ to travel on an airplane, nor any reason for him to fear crashing. Cas sighed.

“What’d you say?”

Now Sam was angry with him. Cas did not understand why. “Nothing.”

“It was obviously something.”

“I need an item from Israel. Dean forgot that he is able to transport himself and has no need to fly. I tried to remind him but… _that_ happened.” Cas tilted his head at the door. His left wing very helpfully gestured in the same direction.

 _Would you stay still?_ he thought at his wings. He did enjoy having them in physical form, but they had a mind of their own at times, and it was really very frustrating that he could not stop them from betraying his emotions.

Sam shook his head and sighed. “Dean and planes. Some things never change.”

“Dean and pie,” Cas said in a pathetic attempt to lighten the mood.

Sam just stared at him with one eyebrow raised.

Cas turned and went into the kitchen, wings waving softly behind him. Dean would know that was a sign of tension. Sam didn’t appear to have the same instinctive understanding of angelic body language, following him like a lost calf. “So since I’m awake because Dean is mad at you, does that mean you’re making me breakfast?”

Cas was not going to allow himself to get frustrated with Sam. He didn’t know. He just didn’t _know_. “I am cooking because I find it calming.  Whether you receive any benefit from it depends on if Dean returns before it is finished.”

He put a pot down on the cooktop with a little too much force. The loud _bang_ it made was enough to make Sam startle, and perhaps it was a little uncharitable of Cas to find that satisfying, but he very much did. The pot was soon joined by a frying pan, which was followed by a mixing bowl and then - more carefully - two plates. He raided the fridge for eggs, milk, butter, bacon and cheese, and the pantry for pepper, flour and bread.

“Cheese-”

“Get _out_ of my kitchen,” Cas growled. “You are in my way. If you push my feathers into the cooktop, even accidentally, I will not be impressed.”

Sam retreated, watching from a safe distance as Cas first started making cheese sauce, then put the bacon and eggs in the frying pan.

It was a meditative process. Following simple steps, thinking only about the process itself. It wasn’t until Cas finally managed to relax his wings that Sam spoke again. “I’m not… used to you having so many feelings, Cas… I know I missed something. Sorry.”

“You are forgiven.” It was hardly Sam’s fault.

“Is it because of Dean?”

It was because of many things. Dean was just one of those things. “No.” One wing gave a little twitch. That would have given the lie away if Cas had been talking to Dean…

“Okay,” Sam said, shrugging. “Food smells great, by the way.”

Cas made a noncommittal sound and put the bread in the toaster.

“It does.”

There was an empty feeling in the pit of Cas’s stomach. It was very uncomfortable. He had no idea why it was there, but he knew he wanted to get rid of it. Without even thinking, he got another slice of bread and started chewing on it.

Sam stared. “Dean’s right.” He put a hand on Cas’s shoulder, eyebrows drawing together.

Cas shoved him out of the kitchen with a wing. “Hm?”

“You’ve Fallen pretty far now. Farther than you let on. I’ve never seen you eat before.”

He _had_ hoped to avoid a conversation like this one. “I will be fine.”

“You’re basically a human with wings, and you expect me to believe that?”

“Sam.” The toast popped out of the toaster. Cas put two slices on each plate, then slipped an egg and a few rashers of bacon onto each plate. He followed that with the cheese sauce, put the dirty pans into the sink, and then carried the plates to the table, putting one down in front of Sam. “Trust me.”

“Cas, I-”

“Shush.” Cas sat down and started to eat. It tasted good, though he wasn’t sure what Dean saw in bacon. It was pleasant, but hardly ‘off God’s own plate’. The only sound was Sam starting to speak every thirty seconds or so, and Cas shushing him.

Sam washed up. Cas went back to the chair near the window, but sitting and thinking was boring and he couldn’t stop fidgeting.

“Spar with me, Sam,” he growled after about five minutes.

“Huh?”

“You heard me. I need to move. I need to _do_ something. Dean would be upset if we went hunting without him. So spar with me.” He tucked his wings tightly against his back and put his trenchcoat on over them. “No unfair advantages. Blunt blades, because I cannot heal either of us if one of us makes a mistake.”

“Cas, I want to get started reading this-”

“The book, the _book_ , it can wait!” Everything could wait. If Sam refused to spar with him he was going to go insane. With no Dean here, he could not leave the bunker without Sam. There was nothing to do except listen to music or try to make the television pick up a strong enough signal. Or read a book, but they had nothing Cas felt like reading.

“Come on, spit it out, what’s bothering you?”

“I do not wish to discuss the matter.”

Sam shrugged. “Okay. Just don’t let your Grace slip. There’ll be bruises.”

“On both sides,” Cas agreed, fishing a pair of blunt machetes out of a bag and tossing one to Sam. He abandoned his chair and crossed the bunker with long strides, pausing at the door. “Are you afraid?”

Sam burst out laughing. Cas thought about what he had said, wondering what was funny about it. Maybe he had chosen the wrong words.

 

The bunker was empty when Dean transported himself back to it. His sense of Cas informed him the angel was in the field, so he let himself out of the bunker and went towards said field.

Cas and Sam were sparring. It had clearly started out with the intention of being a serious training session, but the angel’s slightly breathless laughter informed him that not only had this match gone for longer than a normal training session, it had turned into a game.

A game of cat and mouse that occasionally, when the cat - Cas - caught the mouse - Sam - turned into wrestling matches.

Dean wasn’t sure why he felt such a strong spark of jealousy. It was just a friendly sparring match. He had always thought Cas needed to lighten up a bit, and now that the angel had done so, he had a problem with it. Or, more to the point, with the fact that it wasn’t _him_ that Cas was mucking about with.

And it _was_ just mucking about. Friendly shit. Dean shook his head and sat down, watching as Sam got Cas in a headlock and Cas used his wings to shove the guy away and get free.

Cas’s usual three to four layers had dropped to one. The rest was folded in a neat pile not far away from where Dean sat. The white undershirt didn’t leave a lot to the imagination, hugging Cas’s muscles like a second skin, and it had ridden up a little. There was a two-inch strip of bare skin between Cas’s shirt and his pants.

And fuck, it sent shivers down Dean’s spine and straight to his dick.  Heat rose in his cheeks, but he couldn’t look away. Even as Cas teetered on the edge, balancing precariously on the line between Falling angel and human, he was glorious.

A powerful spinning kick from Sam sent the angel flying. Cas hit the ground six feet away from Dean and slid. Dean grabbed the front of his shirt and hauled him up to stop him from hitting the bunker. Dazed, Cas blinked at him.

“Hello, Dean.” The angel’s voice was sleepy and went straight to Dean’s crotch.

“Hey, Cas.” Dean was not going to let his arousal show. He was _not_ going to let it get the better of him. “That was a hell of a hit.”

Sam sprinted over, muttering a string of curses under his breath. “Sorry! I thought you’d dodge!”

Cas blinked again and shook his head. “My reactions are sluggish today.”

“You’ve needed to sleep for two days, Cas,” Dean growled. “Of course you’re sluggish.”

“And irritable,” Sam cut in.

“And irritable,” Dean agreed. “And now I can’t let you sleep, because you might have a concussion.”

Cas’s eyes drifted shut. “You will need to find a way to keep me awake.”

Dean had a few ideas, but only one of them was something he was willing to think about when Sam was around. “Open your damn eyes, Cas. Alright. Fine. We’ll go to Israel.”

Cas looked at him groggily. “Israel? Oh. Right. Yes. So you intend to keep me awake with travel plans.”

“Yes.”

Cas mumbled something that sounded like “I was hoping you had something else in mind” and went soft pink. He opened his eyes and started taking a bit more of his own weight. Dean let him, releasing the front of his shirt and pulling Cas’s arm over his shoulders.

“I’m gonna need you to help me pack this place up while Sammy goes and picks up our new passports. You better be fucking grateful, Cas.”

Sam scampered for the bunker to get Baby’s keys. A few minutes later, Dean heard the engine start up. Cas was just staring at him, bright blue eyes slightly glazed over, and if the angel hadn’t been concussed it might have been too damned hot for Dean to resist, but as it was…

“How hard did my brother kick you?” he wondered, not intending to speak the words aloud. They slipped out anyway.

“You saw,” Cas mumbled. “Hard enough.”

 

Keeping Cas awake turned out to be impossible. At least he woke up easily enough when Dean checked on him. Every hour, on the hour. Just a light touch of the angel’s feathers was plenty. A light touch anywhere, really, but Dean found himself going for the wings every single time. He couldn’t get the feeling of those feathers between his fingers out of his head. And he wanted an excuse to touch them.

They did need a straighten… He had contained Cas’s Grace, which he thought Cas would be unimpressed about later - angels _hated_ having demonic powers used on them - but was necessary. He could feel the Grace fighting to be let out. Cas didn’t have the focus right now to contain it himself.

Stuffing the last of the things they would take to Israel into a bag, he dumped said bag on the kitchen table and grabbed a pie from the freezer. Apple.

“Aw, fuck, Cas. You’re the best, man,” he said, as if the angel could hear him. He heated the pie with Hellfire and brought it and the tray through to the living area, where Cas was asleep on the couch.

The pie didn’t last very long. Once it was gone, Dean knelt on the floor in front of the couch and reached for one of Cas’s wings.

A few glossy black feathers came out as he ran his fingers through. He put them aside, smiling when Cas rolled over so he could access both wings more easily.

By the time he was finished with Cas’s right wing, the angel was shivering and whimpering with every touch, very much awake. Each sound he made went right to Dean’s dick. He reached for the left only for it to smack him in the face.

“Stop.”

But why? Cas was obviously… _very_ much enjoying this. Easily as much as Dean was, if not more. He reached for it again. Cas smacked him with it a second time.

“I _said_ , stop.”

The angel sat up and started straightening the feathers himself. Dean watched with one eyebrow raised and picked up one of the feathers that had come out, examining it closely. It wasn’t a flight feather, but it was the biggest feather Dean had ever handled that wasn’t attached to a wing. A foot long, three inches across, its oil-slick shine so intense that if not for the rainbow of colors Dean thought he would be able to see his face in it… and so absolutely representative of Castiel’s beauty.

He recalled his own first sight of Cas’s wings like it was yesterday. Unlike Sam, he hadn’t just stood there with his mouth hanging open like an idiot. He’d stepped forward to touch one of them with his fingertips. It had shivered at the touch, feathers rustling softly.

Cas had an impressive wingspan. Fully extended, they were just over eighteen feet from shoulder joint to feather-tip each, and with the eight-ish inch gap between them, that made his total wingspan nearly thirty-seven feet. Dean wasn’t actually sure how they managed to fold up tight enough to fit under the angel’s trenchcoat. The flight feathers _did_ manage to almost trail across the ground anyway, but the bulk of the wings were easily covered. He’d have assumed it had something to do with Grace if not for the fact that Cas barely had any of that left.

There was a loud rustle of feathers. Dean looked up and laughed. Cas looked funny with one wing so perfect, not a feather out of place, and the other straight but obviously a rushed job.

“Come on, let me get the ones you can’t reach,” Dean pleaded.

Cas shook his head, but said nothing. That was unusual for the angel but not entirely unheard-of.

Dean just shrugged and stood up, picking up the other fallen feathers in the process. He wasn’t sure why he did it, but they were kind of beautiful. It seemed a shame to let them just… go to waste. “Alright. We’re all packed. Sam should be back soon. You feeling better? Less dazed?”

“I am no longer sleepy,” Cas said. His eyes were much more with-it but there was definitely a dazed look about him all the same. And that breathlessness to his voice. Fuck, that was hot. The angel’s eyes snapped to the empty pie tray on the coffee table. “Did you eat already?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. “I was hungry.”

“Hm.” Cas stretched and then pulled his shirt down to cover that gorgeous strip of flesh Dean hadn’t had the heart to hide for him. “I am hungry now.”

Well… that was concerning, but hardly surprising. Cas had never expressed a desire to eat before. Dean had assumed angels didn’t need to eat and they used Grace or something to keep their Vessels fed. Now Cas’s Vessel needed nutrients because Cas didn’t have the Grace left to keep the rebuilt Jimmy Novak going. “I’ll heat up a pie for you.”

“No, that will take too-”

“Seconds. It’ll take two seconds, Cas.” Dean strode into the kitchen, got another pie out of the freezer, burned the box off it, and presented it to Cas on a plate because the heat would probably burn the poor guy’s hands. Angels could handle heat, but Cas was barely that anymore. All it would take was one tiny miscalculation and the angel would become human.

Cas stared at him, half in disgust and half in awe. Dean knew full well that he didn’t approve of trivializing powers like Hellfire.

“What?”

“I… thank you.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO :D
> 
> Plotty plot things happen in the next chapter but here, have some fluffy fluffness for now.

Cas hated Israel. Not because of the country itself or the people or any of that but because there was _no way_ he could afford to stretch his wings. Even if he went out into the middle of nowhere to do it, there was a faint chance he might be seen, and in the Holy Land, if he was seen, he would attract _far_ too much attention.

At least it wasn’t unusual for people to cover up from shoulders to toes. There was no chance anybody might catch a glimpse of his wings if he didn’t risk stretching them out. But by the fifth day of keeping them tucked tightly against his back for up to fifteen hours before he could relax them again, the muscles cramped every few minutes, his feathers were sticky and matted with sweat and dust, and the only thing he could think about was how he needed to stretch them out. He snapped at Sam a few too many times, and the oblivious moose eventually found cause to wonder why Cas was so grumpy.

But Cas didn’t have to answer.

“Because, bitch, his wings are uncomfortable,” Dean hissed, too low for anyone but Sam or Cas to hear.

“Okay, jerk,” Sam retorted.

“I want to go back to the hotel,” Cas complained. At least in the hotel they could shut the blinds and lock the door and he could clean his feathers. “We only needed to come here to get the one artifact. We have it. I want to go home now.” He missed being able to transport himself. The first flight back to the States, the one they were booked on, was two days away. He could have gotten the artifact and been home in the space of an _hour_ , if not for his lack of Grace. This trip was a _week_ long, plus a day either side for flying. What a waste of time.

“Cas, you won’t stop fidgeting if we just stay in the hotel,” Sam pointed out.

“I am not used to having to wait to go home.”

“Wait, how long have you thought of America as home?” Dean wondered.

“The United States of America, and more specifically, traveling with you two, has been my home for four years,” Cas stated, not sure why a tear came to his eye. Maybe there was sand in there.

“You _are_ traveling with us,” Sam said.

“This is not a hunt, we are not traveling in the Impala, and I am quite uncomfortable with the temperature here. This is not home.” Home was nowhere _near_ this hot. Even when they had hunts in Texas and Arizona, Cas never sweated this much. But, he thought to himself, one explanation for that was simply that he was new to being affected by temperature. Perhaps he would find Texas and Arizona uncomfortable too.

“No kidding,” Sam said. He had tied his hair back to get it off his neck, which, Cas now realized, he did not do in America. Not even that time they had hunted a ghost in Death Valley.

And Dean had taken to walking around the hotel room shirtless. When they were in public, all three of them made sure not to offend the locals - Israelis did not take well to shirtless Westerners - but Cas very much enjoyed sitting in the hotel watching Dean’s muscles ripple as he relaxed under the air conditioner.

It _really_ didn’t help with his inability to sit still…

“Cold showers all round when we get back,” Dean said. “I’d suggest swimming, but… well. Don’t want you feeling left out.”

Cas nodded. He couldn’t risk going to the hotel swimming pool; someone would _definitely_ see his wings and draw attention to him. That didn’t bother him much. He had no idea if he even knew _how_ to swim. He had never needed to. “Thank you, Dean. I appreciate the thought.”

“Anytime, dude.” Dean smiled at him, then groaned. “Damn it, Sammy! No, we _aren’t_ going to- shit. He’s gone.”

“Sam is a little overexcited,” Cas observed. “There are many places where one might obtain rare books and artifacts in the Holy Land.”

“We need to find him.”

“He will be fine, Dean. I know. He is your younger brother and you wish to protect him. But he can take care of himself. You have been hunting together for more than nine years now.” Cas decided to try out smiling. The slightly grumpy bemused expression he usually wore seemed to intimidate some humans.

“Dude, smiling suits you,” Dean said, grinning back at him. “You’re right. And you know what? I’ve known you for five years. Feels like five days sometimes. And for-fucking-ever other times.”

Cas nodded. He understood Dean better in that moment than ever. Something about that statement resonated in his mind. So many layered meanings. So very many. The time had certainly flown - and occasionally Cas felt like he barely knew the Winchesters at all - but he could no longer imagine life without them, and there were times when he felt he knew them better than he knew himself. They were his dearest friends. His only friends, if he was honest with himself, but that suited him nicely. He was never lonely. “Yes, I know the feeling.”

“Lemme text Sam, let him know we got bored and headed back to the hotel. Can’t have you melting on me.”

“Dean, I am in no danger of-”

“Dude. It’s a joke.”

“Oh.” Cas felt a little stupid. Of course it was a joke. Like those pictures on the Internet captioned ‘you know it’s hot when the dog starts to melt’. Except replace ‘dog’ with ‘angel’.

Pain shot up his right wing and down his back. Another cramp. His last scrap of Grace was already too focused on keeping him tethered to but apart from his Vessel to bother trying to heal the cramped muscle. He really needed to stretch his wings out and give them a few good hard flaps, but there was no space for that in the hotel room. It was going to have to wait until they got home.

The hotel room was frigid after the scorching temperatures of outside. Despite that, Cas pulled off all the clothes above his waist and threw them at his duffel bag the moment the door was shut behind him, stretching his wings out as far as the room would allow. It wasn’t nearly enough. The cramp in his right wing was only getting worse and, what was more, another one was starting up in his left wing.

“You get the first cold shower,” Dean said, staring at Cas’s wings. “And then I’m going to help you dry and straighten your feathers whether you want me to or not.”

Cas nodded, mostly because it was pointless to argue and he was frustrated enough with the lack of space to stretch his wings that he thought he might snap at Dean. Unacceptable.

He was in dire need of a distraction. A shower might just do the trick.

He glanced at Dean, who was still looking wistfully out the window, then headed to the bathroom. Because his wings dragged behind him, he found no reason to the shut the door behind him before he stripped off.

The showerhead pelted out gloriously cool water. Cas held his sweaty hands under the stream, enjoying the feeling of clean, fresh (probably filtered, he thought) water against his skin.  
Finally stepping into the shower, he gasped and shivered. This ‘being human’ thing was taking some getting used to; it was happening too fast. Like evolution sped up centuries faster.

Dean called out from somewhere in the other room. Cas couldn’t hear the words properly above the water flow, and pretended to not have heard it all. Maybe the Winchester would shut up.

“Hey! I said something to-” Dean broke off, and Cas turned, wet feathers trembling.

Wasn’t it usually _Dean_ complaining about _Cas’s_ lack of any sort of sense of personal space? Yet there the guy was, standing in the doorway even though there was no _way_ the Winchester didn’t know Cas was in the shower. Standing in the doorway and _staring_. Cas belatedly covered himself with a wing.

“You- you’re shivering…” Dean swallowed.

Cas looked away from the sticky-skinned male and brushed his arms over his hips, washing away filth. Maybe if he pretended he wasn’t being watched, his watcher would go away. But the uncomfortable sensation never so much as wavered.

And the cramps in his wings were _still_ getting worse. The cold water did not help at all. He sighed and cut the water, then reached out for a towel and wrapped it around his waist before shaking himself hard. Droplets flew in every direction, mainly off his sodden feathers.

Cas sat down on the edge of the massive bathtub and looked at Dean. “They are not clean but this will have to suffice.”

Dean looked confused for a moment, then nodded. “Turn around, I can’t dry them if I can’t reach them.”

Cas nodded and very carefully did as he was told, gasping when an unfamiliar noise was followed by warm air blowing onto his wings. That was… very pleasant. “What are you doing?”

“Hair dryer. Hotels like this always keep one under the sink.”

The hair dryer seemed to work just as well drying feathers. Of course it was going to take a while - there were a lot of feathers that needed drying - but Cas could be patient.

What he didn’t count on was Dean. More specifically, Dean’s fingers running through his feathers, which seemed to make them dry faster. The Winchester’s touch was pleasant, but the kind of pleasant that sent that now-familiar warm crackly feeling through his wings and down his spine.

And then Dean started massaging Cas’s cramped muscles. Cas sagged and let out an absolutely _filthy_ moan. If it hadn’t felt so damnably _good_ , he might have told Dean to stop and dried his wings himself the best he could, but as Dean’s fingers released his cramped muscles and worked through his feathers, the only thing he could think was that he never wanted the Winchester to stop.

Dean couldn’t stop smiling. He had wanted to do this for a long time. Cas was absolute putty in his hands. It took him an hour to dry the angel’s right wing, with Cas moaning and whimpering the entire time. As he moved onto the left, the right fluttered feebly, feathers rustling. He massaged Cas’s cramped muscles until they relaxed completely. The angel’s skin was getting very warm, but Dean only smiled wider and kept running his fingers through the feathers, enjoying the way the hair dryer fluffed them up.

They may not have been perfectly clean, but they were _incredibly_ soft. Dean couldn’t touch them without having visions of them trailing across his skin, their touch so light it was barely there, like being caressed by little more than air.

Cas gasped when Dean found a particular spot just in the elbow joint of the wing. It was obviously more sensitive than most of the rest of the angel’s wings.

“Love the sounds you make,” Dean muttered. Cas just whimpered again in response, a shiver running through both wings. Dean chuckled. “I can stop if you want.”

“N-no,” Cas moaned.

Putty, Dean thought with a triumphant grin. Cas’s breath hitched, so he brushed his fingers over that spot again and the angel trembled, both wings fluttering.

 _Need_ , something told him. He wasn’t sure why he understood angelic body language - might have been the fact that he was a demon - but it was very handy. And right now, very satisfying. This had gone a long way past simple arousal. In fact, Dean thought Cas seemed incredibly close to coming undone.

“Please… Dean… please…” Cas was pathetic and damn if it wasn’t _hot_. Dean was pretty sure he could haul the angel to his feet right now, bend him over, and fuck him senseless. And Cas would not protest.

But Dean wanted more. He wanted Cas to sob with desperation, to beg, to scream. Finally, he dried the last feather and switched off the hair dryer. “Finished. I can keep going. If you want me to.”

“D-don’t st-stop!” Cas wailed. Dean smiled and went back to running his fingers through those silken feathers with his left hand, trailing his right down Cas’s spine.

Suddenly he found himself up against a wall. Cas’s face was just inches from his own and the angel’s hips were pressed against his upper thigh. Cas was hard, hot, and _huge_. Dean would have knotted his hands into the guy’s hair and pulled him in for a kiss, but that was kind of difficult when Cas had both his wrists in one hand, also against the wall.

Dean panted through softly parted lips, staring into intense blue eyes. Fuck, he wanted Cas to kiss him. And more than just _kiss_ him.

“Not. One. Sound,” Cas growled.

Dean nodded, breathless. “Not a sound. Got it.”

A surprised expression crossed Cas’s face for the briefest instant before the angel smiled fiercely - _fuck that was hot_ \- and leaned in even closer. Even. Fucking. Closer.

Dean shivered and moaned when Cas’s lips met his throat. The angel’s stubble brushed against his skin. “Oh, fuck, Cas…”

“I said not a sound!” Cas rasped. Teeth pinched Dean’s earlobe, sending a shudder down his spine. Too much. Fuck. Too much and not enough. He needed more, he needed Cas to stop, he needed Cas to keep fucking _going_ …

Cas’s free hand trailed down his ribs, drawing a yelp from his throat. Dean squirmed and tried to free his own hands, but the hand at his wrists only tightened and held them against the wall tighter. And suddenly Cas’s lips were on his and Dean moaned into the angel’s mouth. Cas broke the kiss and trailed his lips down Dean’s neck before biting into the muscle at the top of his shoulder, a sharpness that was as pleasurable as it was painful.

“This is what you do to me,” Cas said roughly. “You chip away at my self-control. You break me down and build me back up again. I am going to turn you into _nothing_. You will be a whimpering, sobbing wreck and you will remember that _I_ claimed you first. I marked you before Hell stole you away. You are _mine_ and I _will_ have you.”

Dean’s already weak knees gave out. Cas took his weight without any apparent effort. The angel’s hips slowly pressed into Dean’s thigh, erection more than evident. Dean let out a low, inhuman whine, and Cas pinched his nipple, drawing another yelp from the Winchester.

“How many times, Dean? Not a single sound. You’re behaving very badly.”

Dean nodded. He just wanted more. “I’m sorry- ah!” Cas had pinched his nipple again. “I’ll be good!”

“Not one more sound, Dean. I mean it.”

He was trying to be good. Cas was making it very difficult. The angel’s fingers trailed over Dean’s ribs, then back up to play with his nipple, then down again. When they got to the ridge of muscle in front of Dean’s hip, he bucked and gasped. And then Cas hooked a finger below the waistband of his pants and all thought of trying to be good ceased. He whimpered and struggled against Cas’s strong hands.

“C-Cas! Can’t- please- can’t take- ah!”

Cas released Dean’s wrists and took his face roughly in both hands, pulling the Winchester away from the wall and steering him into the shower. One hand vanished and then cold water came from nowhere. Dean yelped and tried to leap out from under the stream, but only pressed himself up against Cas’s body. Hot and cold and pleasure and pain combined and Dean couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe… he was only aware of Cas’s hands sliding over his skin and Cas’s lips exploring his neck, his ear, his shoulder - where the angel sank his teeth in again and _fuck_ , Dean wanted to cry out, wanted to but couldn’t because he couldn’t breathe…

And then the water was gone to be replaced by chilly tiles against Dean’s back. Cas was pressed against him from nose to toes now. Dean took the little bit of control he could manage, running his tongue along the angel’s lower lip. Cas gasped and Dean slipped his tongue inside the guy’s mouth, tasting and exploring until he knew Cas’s teeth, tongue and lips as well as he knew his own.

The front door opened and Sam’s voice echoed from the other room. “Dean? Cas?”

Cas muttered something that sounded like a curse in a language Dean didn’t understand. It sounded a little like Enochian. The angel’s voice was rougher than usual when he replied. “We are here.” Cas turned the water back on and turned away. “Dean is just in the shower.”

Dean blinked at the return of the cold water and grasped after the retreating angel, but it was no use. Cas shut the bathroom door and Dean was left on his own with a raging boner that refused to go away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MOAR WING!KINK


	5. Chapter 5

Much to Cas’s surprise, the rest of their stay in Israel was far more pleasant than the first five days. He spent most of it lounging around on the couch watching Dean swear at Sam’s laptop. Dean and computers did not seem to get along.

It wasn’t until they were at the airport waiting for their flight that Cas felt the need to fidget again. He had managed to avoid confining his wings for the past two days and keeping them hidden beneath his clothes again was oddly distressing. His lack of Grace was the worst part. It was almost completely depleted, and the slow wane that marked his Fall only made matters worse. There was very little time left. Cas thought he had perhaps a day and a half after they returned home.

His feather loss was accelerating. It made it much easier for him to conceal his wings - they were significantly smaller now - but all the same, it was a big problem.

And on top of that, for the first time he could recall, Cas felt unwell. He told himself it was just his lack of Grace, that the cold sweats and light-headedness were a sign of his Fall. As far as he could tell his Vessel was perfectly healthy.

But the flight was horrible. He spent most of it with his cheek pressed against the cold metal wall of the airplane toilet and a worried Dean rubbing his back. Things weren’t much better in the car. He had to make Dean pull over every few miles, which, thankfully, Dean was happy to do. Nobody particularly like the idea of Cas being violently ill in the Impala.

Finally, about halfway home, Cas stumbled out of the car and curled up on his side in the wet grass. Dean told Sam to get a blanket and a rag from the trunk and knelt down behind the angel, gently stroking his cheek.

“Kill me,” Cas moaned.

“No, rather not,” said Dean. “I did warn you not to buy food from street vendors.”

Cas refused to move for hours. He didn’t want to get back in the car. The movement just upset his stomach even more. But he couldn’t stay there forever unless he wanted to end up human, and if this was what being human was about, he didn’t want any part of it.

Eventually, the thing that coaxed him to move was Sam finding root ginger hidden in the trunk. Ginger had been used as an anti-nauseatic for millennia. The ancient Chinese had started it.

Cas chewed the ginger pensively, finding it settled his stomach very quickly.

Half an hour later, twelve hours after touching down (after what should have been a one hour drive), Dean finally cut the engine, glancing into the back seat. Cas was fast asleep and snoring softly, but still looked ill.

“Sammy, you’re gonna have to help me out here,” Dean muttered. Those wings were heavy.

“Yeah, okay, but I’m gonna go to sleep the _moment_ I get inside.”

Dean nodded. He was tired, too, but someone had to stay awake. He would only need three or four hours once Sam was awake again.

Quite a bit of awkwardness later, Dean’s back hurt, but Cas was safely asleep on the couch with a bucket nearby just in case. Sam flopped down on his bed fully dressed, not even bothering to take off his shoes, and was snoring within seconds.

Dean sighed and settled in for a very long night.

Cas woke early. Too early. It was still dark. There was no moon and no stars, and he couldn’t see a thing. He considered turning on a light, but ultimately decided against it. Sam would not be impressed if Cas woke him now.

The angel felt overheated and freezing cold at the same time and everything hurt, but at least his stomach felt better. Not better enough for him to brave food, but better enough that he could move without immediate danger of vomiting. Which begged the question, why was he awake? He wanted to sleep more. He just couldn’t.

That, and he had wasted enough time. By his calculations he had approximately half a day left before the last of his Grace slipped through his metaphysical fingers. Carefully feeling his way around, Cas gathered the things he needed and then slipped out of the bunker into total silence.

Near-unnatural silence. The only things Cas could hear were his own breath and the soft rustle of his feathers as his wings protested the quiet.

Muttering in Enochian to give himself something to listen to, not really caring what he said, Cas drifted around the field. His movements would have seemed random to an outsider, but to him, they were very precise - setting up to perform the spell. By the time the Winchesters knew what he was doing and the risks, it would be too late for them to stop him.

Again, he felt bad about that. It was hardly fair on them. Unfortunately it was the only way. He kept losing feathers at a faster and faster rate. Soon he would have no wings left at all and his Grace would burn out completely.

“Brother.”

Cas jumped. Gabriel. “Yes,” he said cautiously.

“Think about what you are doing.”

“I have thought about it,” he replied, perhaps a little more sharply than he intended. “This is my only option.”

“Castiel-”

“No. I will not become human. I cannot. My- ...my friends need my Grace.”

“And if you fail?”

Cas shook his head, running through a checklist in his head and then continuing where he had left off. As he walked, he said, “Failure is not an option.”

“Failure is always an option. Would you become my enemy, brother?”

Cas stopped again, turning to glare at Gabriel. “For Dean? I would. I have before and I will again. Our hunt is not over. Perhaps it never will be.”

“You consider yourself one of them now?”

“And you do not?” Cas raised an eyebrow. “I see your affection for Sam, whether you see it yourself or not. He is inside.”

“I am here for you,” Gabriel said, but the mention of Sam clearly distracted him.

“You will not change my mind on this matter.” Cas squared his shoulders. His wings flared out wide. Aggressive body language even by human standards. “I would advise you not to try.”

Gabriel responded with the same body language - including the wings, though his Vessel did not physically manifest them - but then apparently thought better of it. “Castiel… you know I do not wish to harm you.”

“Yes, I know,” Cas said, again returning to what he was doing. Gabriel’s eyes bored into the back of his skull, but the other angel did not interrupt again.

Cas spoke the incantation slowly, careful to enunciate each word properly. He was quite proud of himself for his perfect pronunciation. Especially the final three notoriously impossible words.

He wasn’t prepared for the extraordinary influx of Grace.

 _Please_ , a desperate voice begged, standing out above all the other prayers. _Please, I need a way out of this… this living hell. I want to die. Let me die._

Cas didn’t pause to consider what this human might look like. All that mattered to him was that he could allow one desperate human entrance to Eden, freedom from the agony of life, and regain at least some of his former Grace.

 _Yes,_ he told the human. _I can do that for you. My name is Castiel. Your passage to Eden is safe._

And he held her hand as the last shred of Grace burned away from Jimmy Novak’s rebuilt body.

The sky was streaked with pale pink and grey when Dean’s eyes snapped open. He wasn’t sure when he’d fallen asleep but Cas wasn’t in the bunker and Sam was bent over the angel book, muttering in hushed tones to a very familiar and not altogether welcome angel.

“-actually do it.” Sam glanced over at Dean and then cast Gabriel a warning look.

“What’re you on about, Sammy?” Dean growled, getting up a little stiffly from the chair by the window.

It wasn’t Sam who answered. Gabriel was sympathetic when he said, “Castiel has done something very foolish.”

Dean’s heart dropped to his boots. Gabe? Sympathetic? Never a good sign. “What?” he demanded.

“I have stopped the flames,” Gabriel told him softly. “Perhaps it would be best for you to see for yourself.”

Dean forgot all about being stiff from sleeping sitting up and slammed the angel up against a wall. “Tell me!” he snarled. The Mark of Cain burned on his arm, encouraging him to spill angelic blood.

Suddenly they stood outside in the field. Gabriel was slightly unsteady, presumably because he had just transported a demon.

And then Dean noticed.

The ground was scorched, pitted, and in places, red-hot. This didn’t feel like any Grace he had ever known. This felt… distinctly Hellish.

In the middle was a dark mound. Dean approached it slowly. Part of him wanted to gag on the acrid scent of burnt flesh. The rest of him reveled in it. Disgusted at himself, he crouched down. There was, incredibly, one single untouched feather atop the… what had once been Cas. “Cas… what in Hell’s name did you do?”

“Tried to create a Nephilim,” Sam said.

“You knew?!” Dean snarled, rounding on his brother. Sammy had a rag over his mouth and nose and appeared to be trying not to breathe.

“I- Dean, I didn’t think he’d actually go through with it!” Sam took a step back, but wasn’t fast enough to avoid Dean’s fist. It connected with the taller Winchester’s shoulder with a satisfying crunch.

“You fucking _knew_ and you said _nothing_?! You knew and you didn’t try to stop him? To talk him out of it? What the fuck happened? What went wrong?”

Sam shrugged, rubbing his shoulder. “The book doesn’t say anything about this. It says there’s a risk the angel will Fall deep into The Pit itself but-”

“The Pit? The fucking _Pit_?! Lucifer’s Pit? Sam, you fucking idiot, you let him take that risk?!”

“SHUT UP AND LISTEN!” Sam bellowed. Dean blinked and took a step back. Sammy _never_ yelled like that. Oh, they’d had their share of arguments, alright - but Sam had never once issued Dean an order. Not, at least, one he had no choice but to follow.

Stunned to silence, all he could do was nod and wait.

“Gabe doesn’t think that’s how it went down. Can’t you feel it? There’s so much Grace here I’m surprised you’re even able to walk on this ground. Gabe said something about Gracefire… like your Hellfire but from Heavenly origins.”

Gabriel nodded and took over. “Even I am surprised at the heat and the intensity of it. Even the Fallen rarely burn this thoroughly. I could only watch for a moment.”

“Like looking right at the sun,” Sam agreed.

Dean just stood there, frozen and uncomprehending. Sam eventually grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him back to the bunker. Gabriel vanished.

Later, Sam had put a pie in the oven. Dean stood in the doorway, grumbling a string of oaths under his breath.

Finally, Sam snapped, “Listen.”

“No.” Dean wanted to burn the world to the ground. His mind still refused to process whatever the hell Sam and his damned angel were trying to tell him. “How could you let him take that risk, Sam?”

“He’s right, we need his Grace. It was the only option.”

“No, he could have become _human_ , what’s so bad about that, huh?” Dean paced the kitchen, glaring at the pie when Sam got it out of the oven. “Better he be human than-”

“Half-angel?”

“What?”

“That’s what a Nephilim is, Dean. Half angel. Half human. Not as powerful as a pure angel, but still powerfully enough Graced that it’d be damn handy to have one with us on hunts. And this is Cas we’re talking about - even if he only has half his former Grace he’ll still be plenty strong enough to take on just about anything.”

Dean sat down heavily. “Are you saying Cas is-”

“Fine. I think. He’ll be different on the outside - there’s no rebuilding _that_ mangled mess - but he’ll be Cas.”

Dean only heard the first three words. “You _think_? Sammy, you’re gonna have to do a little better than that.”

“I can’t. I couldn’t look, Gabe couldn’t watch for long, we don’t know. But it was Gracefire, nothing Hellish about it. Best anyone can tell, Cas is fine. Just… elsewhere right now.”

“Huh.” Hopefully Cas wouldn’t be too far away. Finding him would be a nightmare as it was. There was a whole planet to search just to find one Nephilim.

If it had even worked.

If that Gracefire hadn’t been the goodness burning out of Cas.

“Damn it, Dean!”

Dean’s head snapped up and he felt his eyes turn green. He still hadn’t mastered the trick to that. It only seemed to happen when he didn’t want it to. “Sam-”

“No. We aren’t thinking about the what-ifs. As far as we’re concerned, Cas is fine. We _will_ find him.”

Minutes blurred together into hours and hours into days. Dean was a constant flurry of movement when he was on Earth and went to Hell to demand audience with Crowley daily. Sometimes twice a day if he got particularly restless.

Sam was getting tired of it. Even distracted as he was, Dean could see that. He just couldn’t do anything about it. Sitting still was impossible. He couldn’t focus well enough to drive. He kept thinking Cas would suddenly appear out of nowhere, scare the shit out of him with an unexpected, “Hello, Dean,” and laugh at his reaction. And then everything would be fine.

But it never happened.

This was worse than the time Cas had pissed off for a whole _year_. At least Dean had known the angel was okay. Missing the guy was unpleasant enough. Not knowing if the ridiculous risk he had taken had worked was even worse.

On the fourth day, Sam’s phone rang.

“Yeah? Uh-huh… Could you repeat that? Thanks. Yep. Yeah, just lemme ask my brother.” Sam put a finger over his phone’s microphone and turned to Dean. “Got a hunt. New York. Sounds like a good one.”

Dean grunted. “It’s vampires. I can have it dealt with in an hour.”

“Dean-”

“Someone has to stay here. I’d heard whispers of vampires in New York. Was going to go check things out when we got back from Israel but then Cas was sick… guess now’s my chance.”

Sam nodded, then said into his phone, “Yeah, we’ll handle it. We’re actually already in the area.”

Dean raised an eyebrow, then transported himself. A good hunt was exactly what he needed.

Wreathed in Hellfire, the demon was a sight to see. She watched as he tore through the vampire nest, apparently oblivious to her presence. He did, she thought, have a habit of failing to notice her until she spoke to him. It had been an accident the first time. Not so much after that.

This time, she doubted he would recognize her, so she just watched, instinctively twitching as she thought of movements she would make.

He didn’t need her at his back; that much was patently clear. Nothing got close. But she wanted to be there more than anything.

His hunt was a distraction. Tension was written in every single hard muscle. That line between his brows was deeper than ever.

As he turned away from the vampire nest, Hellfire flickering and then fading, she approached him, deliberately spreading her wings for him to see them. “Hello, Dean.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the thing finally happened.
> 
> Cue a shit ton of wing kink in the next few chapters.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All I can say is... enjoy.
> 
> And... there's more to come. Don't kill me for leaving it where I did. Look forward to more tomorrow.

Dean stared, dumbfounded, at the beautiful creature in front of him. He couldn’t for the life of him place her but he _knew_ he knew her. It was something about the combination of electric blue eyes and glossy black hair. Or maybe it was the wings.

The… the wings. Huge and black with that oil-slick sheen. His mouth went dry.

“C-Cas?”

She nodded. “This is strange for me as well.”

Yep. That was Cas alright. Dean stepped forward and pulled the angel - Nephilim, he reminded himself - into a bear hug. Cas was a chick now. Okay. Kinda weird, yeah, but Dean could deal with that. The wings were even bigger now, about a forty-foot span, and Cas wrapped them around him. All he could see was feathers. Feathers, and this new Cas. “It’s so good to see you.”

“I… I missed you too, Dean.”

And then Dean stepped back and stared at her. “Dude, what the fuck? You should’ve called.”

Cas looked down at… at herself (God that was weird) and laughed. “Do I look like a ‘dude’, Dean? I did call. I needed to get you and Sam to come to me. The vampires were already here.”

Dean stared, uncomprehending. What Cas was saying… didn’t make any sense. “I left Sam back at the bunker waiting for you to turn up.”

“I guessed.” Cas looked up at him and smiled. “My Grace works differently now. I should have full control of it by the end of next week but for now I seem to be unable to transport myself.”

Dean raised an eyebrow. Great. This was just fucking brilliant. He wasn’t sure he would be able to transport a half-angel. And he was in New fucking York with no Impala. There was a plane trip in his near future.

Fucking hell.

“Dammit, Cas! I was so fucking worried about you, you have no idea-”

Cas stopped him with one long finger on his lips. “Shh.”

“You’ll understand when you see the field, seriously Cas, it’s like Hell itself came to Earth.”

“I said shush,” Cas reminded him. One long flight feather trailed down Dean’s cheek.

He could get used to this. When had anything regarding Cas _not_ been weird as fuck? “Okay. Let’s see about getting you home.” Suddenly it hit him. Cas couldn’t fly without photo ID. “Oh - uhh, you got a passport?”

“And a driver’s license,” Cas said, nodding and reaching into one of her pockets. “The girl who owned this body before me was Cassandra Blair. Her life was very unpleasant. She is in Eden now, but her things… what few things she had… are mine.”

Dean finally noticed that Cas’s clothes were dirty and torn. “About that. We need to get you some new stuff.”

Cas nodded. “She had no money. I did what I could with my Grace but this is the best I could do. I got most of the least pleasant stains out, at least, and it all fits now.”

That last sentence was a lie. Cas was surprised how easily the lies came now. Perhaps it was the human half of her, but her wings no longer betrayed every single emotion. She could control them. Mostly.

There was one garment that refused to fit comfortably no matter what she did. If the strap around her chest wasn’t too tight to breathe, the small mountains on her chest bounced painfully when she ran. And the straps across her shoulders dug into her flesh. She had managed to find a place to shower and the welts on her skin had shocked her. She wasn’t going to admit any of that to Dean. He wouldn’t know how to fit a bra. He’d never had that problem.

Dean touched her face. His eyes were greener than ever now and his pupils were _enormous_. She had seen that look on his face before. It was the way Dean had looked at her in Israel. For most of the journey, but especially when they were alone together in the hotel room. She glanced down, remembering Dean touching her wings.

Her body’s response was unfamiliar and a little frightening in its newness. A warm ache in her crotch, a pooling in her panties, and that strange hollowness inside. Heat rose in her face and she turned away, tucking her wings close to her back and pulling her coat on over them. She wanted the old trenchcoat back, but that would have been burned beyond recognition.

“Cas…” There was hurt in Dean’s voice. Cas felt strangely guilty for that.

“Just… give me some time to get used to all of this.”

“You’ve had four days!”

“I need more!” she snapped. “I love you, damn it, I love you so much, but everything this body does is new and different and _I can’t separate myself from it like I did with Jimmy Novak_ so I don’t know how to handle it!”

Dean grabbed her wrist and yanked her towards him. She stumbled and lost her balance, falling against his chest. It was the first time she had felt _safe_ in four days. He was tall and muscular and though it was Hellfire that thrummed within him, he was _powerful_.

“Cas, it’s okay, you’re okay,” he murmured to her. His chest vibrated as he spoke. “You’ll get used to it. I’ll help. I… love you too.”

And his fingers found her feathers. She forgot about being afraid. With Dean, she was safe. “Let’s go home.”

“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “Let’s go home.”

Cas paused outside her hotel room. “It’s… not much.”

Dean just shook his head and laughed at her. “Seriously, Cas? Some of the places we’ve stayed, we had to salt _everything_ , not just windows and doors, cause of all the gaps. This place is five star compared to _those_ dumps.”

Maybe so, Cas thought, but the standard of places they’d stayed in had improved a lot in the past year or two. The hotel in Israel had been reasonably luxurious, if she looked past the fact that the room had been too small for her to stretch out properly. “I, uhh… there might be some salt still hanging around. I kept it demonproofed until I called-”

“Smart. I’m about the only one who wouldn’t try to kill you on sight. Maybe Crowley wouldn’t.”

“-and there’s a devil’s trap under the bed I haven’t gotten around to removing. But the couch is nice and big.” She felt heat rise in her cheeks at Dean’s speculative expression.

“Big enough for two?” he asked.

“Not quite.” Cas swiped the keycard and pushed the door open. The room was big, but it was dingy, and when she flicked on the light, roaches scuttled back to their hiding places. She could _just_ reach the far wall of the bedroom with one wing if she stood with her wingtip on the front door. The kitchen was small, battered, and dirty, though she hadn’t used it once, and the bathroom was absolutely disgusting. But it was cheap. “I can break the Devil’s Trap, it won’t be hard.”

Dean didn’t even waver. He walked straight to the bed and sat down on it. “Maybe I want to be trapped by you.”

Cas shook her head and wriggled halfway under the bed to break the circle. “Not tonight, Dean. I just told you I need time.”

“Okay.” Dean shrugged. “Got any pie?”

“I don’t keep food in here,” Cas said, shrugging her coat off and then stretching out her wings. “My experience with food poisoning was rather unpleasant. I would like to avoid it happening again. This doesn’t seem like a very hygienic environment in which to store food.”

“It’s not,” Dean replied with a chuckle. “How ‘bout I order pizza?”

Cas smiled and handed him her phone. “I’ll give you my number while you’re talking to the pizza company. Their number is on the refrigerator.”

“Fridge, Cas.”

“Yes, fridge.” She held her hand out expectantly, waiting for Dean’s phone. He smiled and put it in her hand, closing her fingers around it.

“You break that, I go home without you.”

It was an idle threat, Cas thought, but she didn’t want to upset him, so while he was in the kitchen, she updated the contact ‘Assbutt’ to her new number.

After a beat, she decided to change the name. It was obviously an affectionate nickname but it no longer seemed to fit. ‘Feathers’ fit much better.

The human half of her wanted to change more contacts. Most, she thought better of, but there was one she couldn’t help. ‘Sammy’ became ‘Moose’. It was too good to pass up.

The pizza was almost gone when Dean’s phone rang. Cas watched him pat his pockets until he found it. Then he glanced at the screen and burst out laughing. “Did you change my contacts?”

“Only myself and Sam,” Cas said. “I thought you would find it amusing.”

“You made a joke, Cas?”

“I have human instincts now,” she informed him. “You should answer.”

Dean nodded, then stood and walked through to the kitchen. Cas smiled and nibbled on the last slice of pizza, listening to his voice while he spoke to his little brother. She heard every word on both sides, but didn’t pay a lot of attention to the conversation. What mattered was that Dean was in her hotel room and the low murmur of his deep voice made her feel safe. It also made her want him to touch her, but it always had. Probably always would. This new safe feeling was stronger right then. Somehow, though everything was different and kind of terrifying, this was right.

So, so right. The only thing that was wrong was that Dean was still a demon. When she had full control of her Grace again, Cas intended to do something about that. In the meantime, it wasn’t worth worrying about. There was nothing she could do until she knew exactly how much Grace she could use. And then she needed to know how close she could push herself to her absolute limit before burnout started having negative effects on her body.

Humming softly, she finished the pizza with two large bites and pulled one wing around in front of her to straighten out a few feathers. She could do it with Grace now, but something about the process was meditative, and _God_ it was good when Dean decided to take it upon himself to look after her wings.

When Dean finally returned to the couch, Cas shifted so her thigh pressed against his. His surprise was almost tangible; she felt she could reach out and touch it. But to his credit, he just wrapped one arm around her, slipping it between her wings and her back, and pulled her closer still.

“TV get any signal?” he asked.

“Two channels,” Cas purred, letting him pull her into his lap. Dean hummed thoughtfully and rested his cheek on her shoulder. She smiled. “Nothing worth watching.”

“But you keep it on anyway.” It wasn’t a question.

“It… breaks the silence,” Cas mumbled into Dean’s chest.

Dean trailed a hand up Cas’s spine, sending a shiver through her wings. Her heart raced in her chest and Grace zinged through her veins. A _lot_ of Grace. Enough that for a second she panicked a little, before remembering that she was in absolutely no danger of burning out.

“Whoa,” Dean murmured, staring at her with more than a little wonder. “Look at _you_.”

Cas blushed, looking straight into his eyes. They were green again. Green and intense with lust. She had seen him look at her like that once before. In the hotel in Israel, shortly before Sam had interrupted. It made her insides go all wobbly and sent shivers through her wings and down her spine. Her feathers rustled and fluffed up and Dean instantly smoothed them down again. Or tried to.

His touch sent sparks through her body and drew a low whimper from her throat.

“You like that, huh?” Dean growled into her ear. “Remember how pathetic you were in Israel? Completely at my mercy?”

“I remember pinning you against a wall,” Cas said, shifting so that she straddled his hips. “And I remember being about to make you scream my name when we were interrupted.”

“Pretty sure that’s not how it went down,” Dean said, stroking her feathers again.

Cas gasped and arched her back, pressing her chest against his. “Pretty sure it is.”

“You were putty in my hands. And you will be again.”

 _Help_ , Cas thought. She couldn’t resist Dean when he was like this. Possessiveness just… did it for her. “I don’t think so, Leather. You’re _mine_.”

“Am I, now?” Dean raised an eyebrow. Cas suddenly found herself on her back, Dean leaning over her with a dominant gleam in his eyes. He gently tucked her hair behind her ear. “Because I was under the impression that _you_ belonged to _me_.”

Cas used her wings to flip them both over without tipping Dean off the couch onto the floor. She sat on his hips, straddling him again, with her wings held high and her hands on his shoulders. “I am _still_ stronger than you.”

Dean just trailed his hand down her spine. Her arms turned to jelly and refused to hold her weight. Her wings went limp, and he sat up, running his fingers through her feathers. His other hand caressed her face and then wound its way through her hair. “Strength means shit when you turn to goo every time I touch you.”

“I marked you long ago,” Cas reminded him, clinging to him with one wing while stroking his face with her hands. “Before the Mark of Cain, you bore the Mark of Heaven, made by my hand on your shoulder. You belong to me. You have since the moment we first met.” She held his stubbly chin in both hands and pressed her lips to his, tenderly at first. The intention was to leave it there but her body had other ideas. She shoved his shoulders down, crushing one wing a little bit underneath them both, and slipped her thigh in between his, pressing herself against him from chest to toes. Her hands went exploring.

She found a sensitive spot on Dean’s ribs. He bucked beneath her, gasping and then whimpering. She managed to free her squashed wing and used it to keep teasing him while her fingers worked on unbuttoning his shirt. That done, she whipped off his belt, tapping him with the end of it. “If you behave, I will have no use for this.”

“Me? Behave?” Dean grinned up at her. “Never. Why d’you think they sent me to Hell?”

Cas let out a low, husky laugh. “You bad boy. I’ll have to teach you some manners. Starting with the word ‘please’. How does that sound?”

“Mmmm, I think you do.” Dean ran his fingers through her feathers again. She shivered and moaned, but this time her arms stayed strong.

“Stay still or I’ll have to tie you up. Don’t you dare move a single muscle.” She trailed her fingers down his chest, followed by the very tip of one feather. “You touch me and I spank you.”

“Don’t tempt me,” Dean growled.

“I’ll tempt you all I want,” Cas purred, slipping one finger under the waistband of his jeans.

Dean’s hands ran down her sides. She smiled wickedly and whipped him across the chest with the belt. He arched underneath her with a guttural moan.

“No touching,” Cas reminded him.

“But-”

“I told you, no touching.”

Dean let out a lusty growl and put his hands on her hips. “I’ll touch you if I want to.”

Cas whipped him again, a little harder. He groaned and bucked beneath her, a long red welt already forming across his pecs. Suddenly, Cas found herself on the floor, wings squashed beneath her and Dean on top. He wrestled the belt out of her grip and tested its strength before tying her hands together above her head.

“Now,” he told her, “it’s my turn.”

She could easily break the leather, but being restrained by Dean was… pleasant. Hot. It was a big change from the last time they had found themselves in  this situation - Heaven knew Cas’s body was different and responded _very_ differently now - but then, maybe she didn’t care.

Maybe she wanted this. Maybe…

Dean cupped one of her breasts, running his thumb over her nipple. Cas arched her back and moaned, and thought ceased.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I could have broken this into two or even three chapters but I just didn't have the material so have a three-scene chapter.
> 
> Yes I'm a bad person and yes Dean is freaking the fuck out.

It was a bit of a trip-out to think that this was Cas. This extraordinarily sexy creature squirming and mewling beneath him was _Cas_. Dean didn’t care that her clothes were dirty, torn and stained, or that her bra - now that he had relieved her of her shirt - was about as unsexy as they came. He only cared that Cas was okay. Not one of Lucifer’s minions or… or worse, dead.

He shook off the thought and lost himself in her eyes. There was something more glorious about Cas now, as if that was even possible. Something that told him she wasn’t nearly as breakable as she looked, and yet… four times as vulnerable.

Weight supported on his right elbow, he skimmed her curves with his left hand. His right hand worked its way between feathers to take hold of the base of one of her wings. Dean swallowed Cas’s moans, coaxing her tongue into a dance, then broke away again to sink his teeth into her shoulder. She arched up, allowing him access to the back of her bra. He undid it with one hand and slipped it off as far as he could without untying her wrists, then sat back and admired her.

She was beautiful. So beautiful. Soft, smooth, creamy skin and curves that wouldn’t have been out of place on a racetrack. Her hair spilled over her arms and onto the floor in dark waves and her eyes, such an intense shade of blue, were glazed with desire.

Cas took the opportunity to shift her weight so that she could free her wings and Dean found himself surrounded by feathers. She trailed one long flight feather down his chest and another down his spine, coaxing a drawn-out moan from his throat, and she lifted the thigh that was between Dean’s legs, pressing it into the bulge in the front of his jeans.

Suddenly there were far too many layers of clothing between them. Dean grunted and stood to strip off his jeans and boxers, then bent to lift Cas onto the couch again. He leaned over her to kiss her hungrily, left hand knotting itself into her hair while his right pushed her skirt up to her waist and then trailed down her inner thighs.

“Fuck, Cas, you're so sexy,” Dean gasped into her lips.

Cas just let out a sultry chuckle and ran her feathers down his sides. Dean’s cock throbbed almost painfully. Something told him that even though Cas was the one tied up, she was absolutely in charge.

“I want you, Leather,” she purred, staring up at him through impossibly long eyelashes.

“I’m yours, Feathers,” Dean growled, brushing a hand over her panties. Cas responded with a choked sob and a weak flutter of her wings.

“Dean-!”

“Patience, babe.”

Cas was already desperate, but not desperate enough. Not yet. Dean nipped her collarbone and she yelped, pushing her hips towards him again. He rewarded her with another light brush of his fingers, then cupped one of her breasts in one hand, circling her nipple with his thumb.

She gasped and whimpered, so he dipped his head and took her nipple into his mouth with a luxuriant suckle. Cas let out an absolutely filthy moan and then mumbled something incoherent. It _might_ have been his name.

He slipped her panties off and shifted so he could better reach her, circling the hard nub of her clit with one finger. The sounds she made…

And the sensation of her _feathers_ trailing across his cock, so soft, their touch so light… “Oh, God, Cas!”

She whacked him over the head with one wing. “Do not speak my Father’s name while we are doing this!”

Dean grunted an affirmative and slipped one finger inside her. Her wings went limp. He slid a second finger in alongside the first, and then a third.

“D-Dean, please-!”

Smiling wickedly, he brought her right to the edge and then stopped, pulling his fingers out. “Patience, Feathers.”

“Please,” she sobbed. “Please!”

“Not yet.”

“Dean!”

He slipped his slick fingers into her mouth, letting her taste herself, and rolled one of her nipples between the fingers of his other hand. “Not yet. Not before I let you.”

“S-so close, please, please!”

Dean cast her a smug grin. “You’re such a bad little angel.”

Cas regained control of her wings and stroked his cock with her feathers. Stars exploded in his vision and a little bead of pearly pre-cum leaked out of the tip and slid down the shaft. He was just as damned close as she was but he wasn’t going to let her break his self-control. No chance.

“You think-” Cas broke off with a gasp as Dean slid into her.

“Oh, I _know_ ,” he groaned, desperate to move but making absolutely sure to keep completely still. “I know all your deepest, darkest desires. I know you’re a dirty little slut at heart, you bad girl. Don’t you worry about a thing, because I’m here to teach you how to be good.”

Finally, he let himself move, sliding in deeper and then pulling nearly all the way out again. Cas whimpered and moaned again. “F-f- ah! Faster!”

Dean had every intention of keeping his pace torturously slow, but with every stroke, Cas’s muscles tightened around him, encouraging him faster and faster. She was _so_ ready for him.

As Dean’s thrusts increased in pace Cas’s moans got louder and more desperate, with occasional gasps and sobs interrupting them. She threw her head back, arched off the couch, and screamed his name. The ripples of her orgasm brought Dean up to and then over the edge and he came with a shout - it might have been her name, he wasn’t sure - before collapsing onto the couch by her side, panting.

“I love you, Feathers,” he murmured once he caught his breath.

“Not as much as I love you,” Cas mumbled drowsily. Her breathing settled into the slow, deep rhythm of sleep. Dean lay awake next to her, stroking her feathers with a satisfied smile on his face. She was more peaceful than he had ever seen her - beautiful Nephilim _or_ her former Vessel. He was struck with a sudden desire to take a photo or draw her or paint her or _something_ but he didn’t have an artistic bone in his body so he instead contented himself with committing every single detail to memory.

 

Cas had underestimated the awkwardness of buying new clothes. Pants, jeans, shorts, skirts and panties weren’t so bad. Shirts and coats were easy. But bras… How was she supposed to know which ones would fit? Dean had muttered something about C cups and that much seemed about right but the rest… fitting the shoulder straps especially… seemed impossible. And, as Dean had oh-so-helpfully pointed out, her wings vetoed the idea of a professional fitting.

“I like that one,” Dean commented, pointing at a black lacy bra with a matching thong.

“You would,” Cas replied, raising an eyebrow. “I think it would break quickly considering the amount of running we do.”

“Cas, not everything has to be practical.”

“I would like something both practical and attractive.” Cas arched one delicate eyebrow, eyes on a midnight blue silk bra with fairly wide straps. “I like that one. It looks more comfortable.”

“Mmmm,” Dean mused. “If I see you walk out of the bathroom wearing that, you won’t be wearing it long.”

Cas pulled one off the rack that looked to be about the right size. “I can always use my Grace to make it fit if it isn’t right.”

“That’s my girl.”

Cas smiled at Dean and handed the bra to him to carry, adding it to the mountain of clothing he already labored under. Ignoring his protests, she skipped around the underwear section for a good ten minutes, picking up an item here and an item there and adding them to Dean’s burden.

Finally, she beamed. “I think that will be all.”

“Dammit, Cas, we’re gonna need half the airplane just to transport all your stuff!”

She laughed at him and started towards the checkouts, only to stop dead in her tracks with a surprised huff.

There it was. The trenchcoat. It was a near-exact replica of her old one, except cut for a woman, and - she wasn’t quite able to contain an excited squeal - the last one left was in her size.

Dean rolled his eyes at her. She just grinned unrepentantly and dragged him to the checkouts. The total was a little frightening, but Dean only rolled his eyes again and pulled a fake credit card out of his wallet.

 

In the end, even after four days in New York, Cas managed to fold all her clothes and pack them so that they all fit in one suitcase. One relatively light suitcase. Dean, expecting a heavy case, overcompensated picking it up and fell on his ass. Cas couldn’t stop laughing at him long enough to help him up, and then laughed so hard at his pout that she ended up losing her balance and falling into a wall.

Eventually they made it to the airport. Cas shuffled her wings, trying to make them sit comfortably under her trenchcoat, but they absolutely refused. She Graced the feathers straight, and then when that didn’t work, murmured a few words in Enochian. Grace zinged through her veins and her wings phased through her coat.

Dean’s double-take was straight out of a cartoon and made her start giggling, but she broke off when she noticed the horrified look on his face.

“Shh,” she said, placing one hand on his chest. His heart was beating fast; stress, she surmised. “They see only what they expect to see. You can only see because you know the truth.”

“A… a glamor?”

Cas nodded. “Essentially, yes. It doesn’t take much power but it’s very complicated. I nearly have the Grace control to transport us, but the tickets are paid for. There isn’t much point in me pushing myself to do something I am not quite capable of.”

Dean nodded, still tense. Cas sighed and picked up her suitcase, taking her place in line for check-in.

“If I touched them,” Dean murmured in her ear, “what would everybody else see?”

“You touching my hair, or my shoulder. It doesn’t matter. No one who doesn’t know about them would see them.” Cas smiled, then gasped when Dean grabbed her left wing. His grip was so tight it was almost painful. “Dean-”

“Only for you, Cas. You know I hate flying. Only for you.”

He was terrified, Cas thought. Trying not to show it, but absolutely terrified. She caressed his face with her free wing and gently tugged the other one, trying to get him to loosen his grip a little. It didn’t work. “If anything happens we can transport ourselves right out, okay?”

Dean nodded and grunted a nervous affirmative. “I just _know_ something’s gonna go wrong. Always fucking does. Look at our last trip. Israel.”

“The flight there was pleasant,” Cas reminded him.

“But the flight _home_ , Cas! You were so sick, I was convinced I was gonna have to take you to hospital, couldn’t stop wondering how the fuck I was supposed to explain about… the thing.”

Cas smiled and stroked his face with a feather again. “I brought that on myself. You did warn me about buying food from street vendors. And that was nothing to do with the plane. The plane was fine.”

“There was a little turbulence,” Dean admitted. “You were too busy making friends with the toilet to notice.”

“Dean. Turbulence is normal.” Cas offered him her best blinding smile. “You forget you’re talking to someone who flies nearly every day.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t, I never fly, I hate flying and I always feel like we’re about to drop out of the sky.” A vein jumped in his temple. Cas took his right hand in her left and laid her right hand over his heart, looking up at him with deliberately enormous blue eyes.

“Dean, do you trust me?”

He nodded.

“Good. I promise if anything happens, I’ll transport us both out. Do you believe me?”

Dean nodded again and then sighed. He was still nervous - Cas could feel the tension rolling off him in waves - but his grip on her wing loosened and he managed to smile at the check-in desk attendant when the blonde woman waved them both forward.

“Dean Winchester and Cassandra Blair for Pan-Am nine-oh-three,” Cas said with a dazzling smile, producing both their tickets and her passport. Dean didn’t reach for his, so she smacked him on the back of the head with a wing. “Give the lady your passport, honey.”

“Y-yeah, passport, right,” Dean muttered, patting his pockets until he found it. “Forgot. Nervous flier.”

Cas smiled as if indulging a toddler.

“Bags on the conveyor belt,” the blonde woman told them. Cas first put hers on - it was eight pounds below the weight limit - and then Dean’s, which was a half-pound over.

“Very sorry,” Cas said, eyes huge and innocent. “Is it okay if you just mark his down as under the weight limit and add the extra to mine?”

“I can do that for you,” the woman replied with a smile. “What’s half a pound?”

“Thank you so much!” Cas enthused. “I could kiss you!”

Dean put one arm around her waist, a possessive gleam in his eyes. “I’m sure that isn’t necessary. Right, Cas?”

“Right.”

“Gate five,” the check-in lady told them.

Cas dragged a nervous Dean away with another ‘thank you’ and a sincere ‘have a lovely day’.

“Have a lovely day, Cas? _Really_? Hamming it up a little, don’t you think?”

Cas shrugged. “It worked, didn’t it?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“But nothing. Relax, Dean. Nothing is going to happen.” Cas bounced up onto the balls of her feet to kiss his cheek. She didn’t account for Dean’s reaction. His hand found the back of her head and pulled her in, and he claimed her mouth, softly nipping her bottom lip. She melted against his chest, quite unable to remember that there were other people around.

Finally, she had to surface for air. Dean’s intense green eyes trapped her blue ones, and he growled, “Famous last words, Feathers.”

 

Cas put her hand on Dean’s knee and shoved it down, forcing it to stop bouncing. “That’s incredibly distracting. Stop.”

“Can’t,” Dean managed. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His breath came shallow and rapid, right on the edge of hyperventilating. “Got a bad feeling about this.”

“You always have a bad feeling about flying,” Cas reminded him. A low whine started up, thrumming through the plane. Engines, she thought. It sounded normal, to her ear.

The whine and the vibration nearly sent Dean into a full-on panic attack. He’d dealt better with flying when Cas had spent the whole flight vomiting. It was quite ridiculous, really, but she thought better than to say that.

Finally, frustrated, she snapped, “Do I have to give you a Xanax?”

Dean paused. His expression was an odd mix of confusion, surprise and hope. “Do you have some with you?”

“Not a chance,” Cas told him. “I shouldn’t have said that. I just… I feel like you handle flying better when you have something else to stress about.”

Dean nodded. “Always have.”

“Fine. Haven’t you noticed that Sam hasn’t called in a few days?” Cas felt cruel even mentioning it, but it was the only thing she could think of to get Dean’s mind off the flight. She knew full well that Sam was fine. He had told her about a book he had found and warned her he wouldn’t be in touch until he finished reading it. She had neglected to mention that to Dean.

It might have been cruel, but it worked. His leg stopped bouncing and his breathing evened out.

_Nothing is going to happen._

_ Famous last words, Feathers. _

Suddenly strangely nervous, Cas pulled the paper and colored pencils out of the pocket on the back of the seat in front of her and started to sketch. Random shapes and colors slowly melded into a photorealistic two-by-two-inch portrait of Dean.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I regret nothing.
> 
> Also, enter the first non-canon character. Hope you guys like her and I haven't over-done anything.

The flight was completely normal. Nothing remotely untoward happened and there wasn’t even any turbulence. Until about halfway through, when Dean was proven right.

Just before it happened, a shamefaced Cas turned to Dean and admitted, “Sam texted me before he dropped off the grid and told me he found a new book.”

Much to her surprise, Dean barely responded. “Okay.”

“Okay? You’re not… not mad?” Cas fidgeted with one of her curls.

“Shut up, Cas, don’t you hear that?”

“Hear what?” Cas listened hard. Silence. One passenger coughed. She listened harder and all she could hear was people breathing. “There’s nothing _to_ hear, Dean.”

Dean growled. “Exactly. Where’s the engine noise?”

“Don’t you dare transport out,” Cas hissed. “We’re going to find out what happened. We’re going to make sure all these people get out of this _alive_.”

“Cas-”

“No, Dean, listen to me. We can get out with an instant’s notice. They can’t. We have time.” Cas stood and eased her way past a newly nervous Dean, slapping his bouncing knee on the way. “Stay right there until I call for you.”

“Okay.”

More people started to notice the silence. A murmur ran through the plane. Grace zinged through Cas’s veins, along with the sense that this was not a normal engine failure. There was something on this plane other than the Nephilim and her demonic companion.

Briefly, she considered revealing her wings to the other passengers, but decided against it. Human reactions were unpredictable and panic would be counterproductive. She stopped a flight attendant, impressed at how well the crew managed to pretend that all was well.

“Excuse me,” she said as gently as she could manage. “Might I be able to speak with the pilot?”

“I’m afraid not,” the stewardess told her. “We don’t allow passengers into the cockpit.”

Cas nodded, pretending to understand. “Of course. I just want to help with the… situation with the engines. The pilot and copilot will find they cannot restart them. It makes no sense; there is no reason for this failure. All four engines are in perfect condition with no damage whatsoever, there is plenty of fuel, the aircraft was traveling well above stall speed. There is no logical explanation. I can help with that.”

“All due respect, ma’am, but if you were an aircraft engineer, we would know. Please return to your seat.”

Cas pursed her lips, thinking. Dean would have a cover story already prepared. She had nothing. “When you eliminate the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. I can help. When the pilot finds no answers, speak with me again.” She injected a little Grace into her words - just a little - to ensure she left an impression, and then turned and went back to her seat.

“So?” Dean demanded.

“I’m almost certain it’s a haunting. Routine, for us. If it’s not a haunting it’s a demon and if it was a demon you’d be able to feel it.”

Dean nodded. “No demons here.”

“Except for you, but it’s not you.” Cas tucked her hair behind her ears and examined the portrait she had drawn. “I can feel it. It doesn’t feel like an everyday ghost. It’s darker. Angrier. Reminds me of the Witnesses.”

“You saying someone raised this thing on purpose?”

Cas nodded. “It still doesn’t pose any kind of challenge. Not for us. If I could get a solid feel on its location I’d smite it.”

Dean grimaced. “In the engines, yeah?”

“Yes, but if I smote an engine these people would be in trouble. I need to be able to feel the difference between engine and spirit. I need to be closer.” Cas huffed. They were already practically on top of the wings. She had one option, and it was set to be unpleasant. Potentially dangerous. She wasn’t certain she would be able to do it twice. “I need to transport myself out onto the wing. Once I’m on one I should be able to get to the other easily. Getting back in here, I’m not sure about.”

“No, Cas, don’t risk it-”

“It might be the only option, Dean. Unless you have a better idea.”

“Yeah, I do,” he growled. “You and I stay safe. We get the hell out of here. There are plane crashes every damn day, Cas-”

“No, there aren’t,” she corrected him. “If a plane from a developed country crashes it makes international news. That happens once every two, maybe three years. Near misses also make the news.”

“Whatever. They happen. We can’t stop them all.”

Cas was about ready to slap him. He was thinking like a demon. Selfish, selfish demon. “What if Sam was one of the people on this plane, Dean? Sam, or Bobby, or Charlie-”

“Dammit, Cas, don’t be so reasonable!”

“I _won’t_ stand by and do nothing when I know I can stop this thing!” Cas snapped. “You are being selfish. You and I are in absolutely no danger. Worst case scenario I can’t get back inside. I have other ways of getting home. You know that as well as I do so quit thinking about yourself and start thinking about the other people on this plane. Someone’s mother. Someone’s brother, father, sister, aunt, son, daughter, friend! Dean, what if it was _me_ and I wasn’t able to get out? Because someone on this plane means to someone else what I mean to you! You can _go_ if you’re that desperate to get out but I will not be following! Not right away, maybe not ever.”

Dean recoiled as if slapped. “Cas…”

“I mean it, Dean!” A tear rolled down her cheek. “This isn’t like you, not at all. You’re not acting like the man I love. You’re acting like a demon. Some things never change but some things can’t stay the same. I want you back. I want you human again. Please…”

Dean reached out to wipe the tear from her face but she turned away, blocking him with a wing. He gripped that wing, pushed it out of the way, and grabbed her wrist, pulling her around to face him again. “Cas, for God’s sake, maybe I’m being selfish but it’s because I just got you back! Four days I didn’t know if you were alive or dead or one of _his_ minions and I nearly went mad, just ask Sam. It’s _not_ rational but when the hell is anything ever rational between us? For the longest time the only person I actually gave a shit about was Sammy and then you turned up and threw a spanner in the works and if it was fucking Sam sitting in that seat, not you, I’d still want to get the hell out and not fight this thing, but not nearly this much, because _I can’t lose you again_!”

“Just stop,” Cas said thickly. “Stop it. I don’t know if this is you or Hell talking.”

 

Dean stared, dumbfounded, at the spot Cas had just vanished from. How had he managed to screw up so monumentally? They had disagreed on hunts before but never like this.

The flight attendant Cas had spoken to earlier paused at his seat. “Where’s your companion?”

“Bathroom,” Dean lied. Hell, for all he knew it was the truth. Maybe she just didn’t want to cry where she could be seen. “Can I help?”

“Do you know what she meant when she said she could help us?”

He nodded. “We know what’s stopping the engines from working. But you’re going to have to be open-minded. It sounds kinda crazy.”

“Right now I’ll believe anything if it gets the engines running again.”

“Right. We’ll see about that.” Dean shrugged. “You believe in ghosts?”

“Sure, I mean, a few years ago a ouija board scared me half to death.”

“Yeah. Well. We’re dealing with something like that now, but worse. Someone raised this thing on purpose. Cas is working on it-”

“I thought you told me she was in the bathroom.”

“That was a lie. She’s working on destroying the spirit.” Dean fixed the flight attendant with a very serious gaze. “The situation is under-”

The plane suddenly dropped ten feet. Dean, strapped in because of his flight nerves, fell with the plane. The flight attendant wasn’t so lucky and hit her head hard on the ceiling.

Dean freed himself from his seatbelt just long enough to strap the flight attendant into Cas’s seat and then strapped himself back in. She was breathing and her pulse was strong, but she was still unconscious.

“What the fuck’s going on, Cas?” he growled.

 

It wasn’t what Cas had expected. After all the chaos of the past few years ghosts seemed simple and easy, on the surface of it. This one, however, refused to be destroyed. Every time she got close, it did something else to the plane to throw her off balance. She couldn’t risk trying to smite it with such a high chance she might miss.

She couldn’t do anything. The plane was getting closer and closer to the ground with every passing second and the ghost’s actions in trying to fight her off only made matters worse.

“I am going to regret this,” she muttered, pressing her palms against the aluminum skin of the aircraft. Every last bit of Grace she thought she could afford to use sparked through her hands to take control of the plane. With a grunt of effort, she started up the engines again.

There were over two hundred lives in the balance. So many human souls cupped in her hands, slowly seeping out like so much sand. Mortal souls. Ephemeral, fleeting, but such bright little flames.

Cas knew she didn’t have enough Grace to do this and ‘zap’ herself back inside the plane, but she had no choice. She sent Grace burning through the entire aircraft, keeping it carefully away from the mortal souls and the demon within. The spirit fought back, but it was nothing beneath the onslaught of Heavenly power.

Cas burned it to nothing, and then pulled what was left of her Grace back from the plane. It was going to have to keep itself in the air without her assistance. She didn’t even have enough left to keep her wings hidden. Getting back inside was out of the question. She spread her own wings and let the airflow over them lift her up off the plane’s back.

Too spent to even bother attempting to glide, she tucked her wings against her back and let herself freefall, spreading them again only at the last minute to pull out of the dive. She nearly blacked out from the force of her momentum draining the blood from her head and, exhausted, glided until her wings refused to carry her. Then she hit the ground, stumbled forward, and fell to her hands and knees.

There was no time to waste on resting. She forced herself to stand and started walking, wings trailing limply behind her.

 

“We have to find Cas,” Dean announced as he walked into the bunker. “Some idiot raised a spirit to haunt the plane. Cas killed it but not without using so much Grace it took everything I had not to be blasted back to Hell.”

He was met with silence, and then a shocked Sam emerged from deep within the bunker. “You think-”

“She didn’t have enough to get back into the plane, Sam.”

“She?”

“Long story. No time. Get in the fucking car.”

Sammy nodded. There was a thump from Sam’s bedroom and even Dean couldn’t miss the blush that rose in the taller Winchester’s cheeks.

“Don’t tell me that’s Gabriel,” Dean groaned.

“He’s… translating some Enochian for me,” Sam said, blushing again.

“Liar, liar, pants on fire. Now hurry the fuck up.” Dean grabbed a pie from the freezer and heated it with his Hellfire, wolfing it down while he waited for his little brother to move. “I’m not judging you, bitch, I just need you to get in the fucking car so that your angel can find mine.”

“Jerk,” Sam retorted, blushing even redder when a shirtless Gabriel walked through the bunker and out the front door without a word.

Dean just raised an eyebrow and went to wait in the Impala. Gabe was, of course, already there.

“Your brother is taking to learning Enochian well,” the angel commented. “He has a talented tongue.”

“Shut up.”

“Worried, Dean?”

“Not in the mood for your shit. You’re going to help me find Cas and then you’re going to shut the hell up before I put a banishing sigil on your ass.” Bad choice of words. Dean regretted it the instant they were out of his mouth.

“On my behind?” Gabe laughed. “That’s Sam’s territory.”

“Shut up! I don’t want to know!” Dean started Baby up. The familiar snarl of her engine instantly released a little bit of his tension, but not enough.

Sam took shotgun, as usual, and Gabe decided to sit in the exact middle of the back seat. Dean floored the accelerator, pulling Baby out onto the highway.

“Other way,” Gabe said.

“Fuck you,” Dean growled. And instantly regretted it.

“I’d rather Sam do that,” Gabe replied smoothly. “I’m not messing with you. Cas is in Texas.”

Sam went tomato red. Dean decided to just shut up and drive.

 

She was somewhere in Texas, but beyond that, Cas had absolutely no idea where she was. Her Grace was slowly recovering, but it would be a while before she could transport herself. She barely had enough to keep her wings hidden. Forget _clean_.

It was just on dark when she finally stumbled into the outskirts of a town. The sign proclaimed it was Paducah, Texas, and it had a population of just under fifteen hundred. Small towns, Cas had found, could be either welcoming and helpful, or nothing but hostile. Small towns in Texas especially so.

Someone shuffled out of a house. An older lady, Cas thought tiredly. An older lady with a gun, if the bulge in her pocket was any indication. It was probably loaded. This _was_ Texas.

“Oh, Lawdy, y’all a mess! What in Jesus’ name happened to you?”

Question of the millennium. Cas quickly decided there was no way she could tell the truth. “Where do I start?”

“At the start, Sugah. I got all my life t’hear it. Come inside, we’ll get y’all cleaned up good. You hungry? I have a roast in the oven, nothing like a nice roast after a long day.”

“Thank you,” Cas said, bowing her head. The old lady led her inside and pointed her to the bathroom.

“You get cleaned up and I’ll have food on the table for you.”

 

Finally, clean, dry and with a pleasantly full stomach, Cas eased herself onto the couch beside the old lady, who had introduced herself as Martha.

“You look tired, Sugah,” Martha told her.

“I am,” Cas agreed. “Exhausted. I can’t even tell you most of it-”

“Of course you can,” Martha said, looking at her with wise hazel eyes that could see right into her soul. “You’re Nephilim, Sugah. Any Angel of the Lawd, even half-bred, is welcome in my home.”

“How did you- there hasn’t been a Nephilim on Earth for over two thousand years!”

“Because I can see that ain’t your Vessel and old women of God know things. Now, y’all gon’ tell me what brings you to Paducah lookin’ like you lost a fight with a demon, as close to Graceless as I ever saw any angel?”

Cas took a deep breath and started to talk. She told Martha all about how, not so long ago, she was pure angel, but Falling from Grace. She talked about what she’d done to become Nephilim, about freeing Cassandra Blair from her living hell, about getting used to everything - especially having a female body, having a gender at all - and about the haunting on the plane and what she’d had to do to save those two hundred people.

And Martha just listened. When Cas was done talking, the old Texan just sat back in her chair and folded her hands in her lap.

“Well then, Castielle,” Martha said, “I think y’all need to get some sleep.”

Cas nodded.

“You can have the spare room, Sugah.”

“Thank you, Martha.” Cas managed a tired smile. “You’re an angel.”

Martha responded with a hearty laugh. “No, Sugah. You are.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was so damn hard to write and I don't know why.
> 
> Writer's block I guess. Speaking of which does anyone want to see what I do when I need to get words down but none are happening for my story? I write about fem!Cas being a writer and having writer's block. There's a good chance that because it's random plotless musings it's not really much worth the read but if anyone wants it...

“Sugah, it’s midday,” Martha informed Cas when she finally emerged from the bedroom.

Cas nodded. She felt overheated and freezing cold at the same time - unfortunately this was a familiar feeling - and her head felt like it was about to split in two. “I’m only up because I’m hungry. I don’t want to be awake.”

“And Sugah, there’s a very strange group of men lookin’ for y’all. An angel, a demon and a human all workin’ togethah.”

Cas’s wings twitched. “The demon is Dean. He’s… he was human once. I’m going to make him human again. And he’ll be with his younger brother Sam. The angel… I can only assume the angel is Gabriel.” A tremor ran through her from her toes to her wingtips and her knees almost gave out. “They got here fast.”

“Sugah, you slept for two days. It’s midday Tuesday.”

Cas couldn’t quite hide her reaction to that. Her flinch drew a raised eyebrow from Martha, but thankfully, no questions. She didn’t particularly like the idea of explaining precisely why Tuesday would forever be a source of anxiety for her. “I think it’s probably something to do with the amount of Grace I used…”

“Mmm, figured that mahself,” Martha agreed. “Y’all are new to bein’ half-human _an’_ to bein’ a woman. I feel for you, Sugah.”

Cas accepted an awkward hug, filched a couple of slices of bread from Martha’s breadbox, and retreated. “Can you… tell Dean where I am? And make sure he knows I’m okay. Don’t tell him I’m a mess, though, please… just tell him I’m sleeping off a hangover.”

“Apt way to put it. Of course I can do that for y’all.”

Raising a smile with no small amount of effort, Cas returned to Martha’s spare bedroom and flopped down on the bed, unable to stop her wings from shuddering every couple of seconds. Eventually she managed to slip back into blissful oblivion.

“For fuck’s sake,” Dean growled. He was fine with Sam’s relationship with Gabriel. He was even okay with having the damn angel come with them on hunts now and then. But them making out in the back of the Impala while he was trying to fucking _drive_ was a step too damn far.

He pulled over and twisted in his seat to glare at the two. “We’re _in_ fucking Paducah now, so if you two keep that shit up in my car I swear I’ll kick you both out and you can go get a room.”

“Where?” Sam asked, eyes full of fake innocence. “I don’t see any hotels. Or motels.”

Sam was, unfortunately, right. In a town of not even fifteen hundred with no tourist attractions, there wasn’t a lot of use for hotels or motels. Dean figured there was probably someone in town with a spare room who rented it out if someone on a road trip needed a place to stay. And honestly, how hard could it be to find one Nephilim?

But nobody had seen any sign of a five-foot-seven twenty-something with black hair and blue eyes, and there was no point going around asking about half-angels. Town like this, people would look at Dean like he was crazy.

“I don’t care, you respect Baby or you get the hell out.”

“Fiiine,” Gabe huffed, and he and Sam went back to sitting like normal people. Dean promptly forgot about them and pulled back onto the road, only to be flagged down by a woman who looked about ninety. He sighed and pulled over again. There was room in the car if the old bat needed a ride and he was only driving around aimlessly anyway.

“Can I help you?”

“No, but I can help y’all, if it’s you three been lookin’ for the dark-haired gal callin’ herself Castielle. Name’s Martha, Martha Henry. An’ since I ain’t seen no other outsiders I’m fixin’ to talk to y’all. Jes’ pull into that driveway with the rosebushes alongside.” Martha pointed to the one she meant. “But them there roses are my pride an’ joy so don’t you go squashin’ ‘em.”

Talk about Texan, Dean thought, grasping wildly at anything vaguely rational that ran through his mind. She knew Cas. The old Texan lady knew Cas. Jesus fucking Christ, right when he thought he was never going to find anyone who could point him in the right direction…

He clipped a rosebush in his hurry to get Baby parked in that damn driveway, but Gabriel just Graced it back into shape before Martha Henry had a chance to notice. Dean twisted in his seat to glare at his brother and the angel. “You two. Out of the car. I won’t have my absence being used as an excuse to defile my car.”

“Defile it?” Gabe said in mock horror. “Never!”

“I mean it. Out. You’re coming in, too.” Dean glanced at Martha, who was hurrying along at a pace that was frankly alarming, considering she was easily ninety. “The old bat wants to talk to all of us, not just me.”

“You might be a little more respectful,” Gabe informed him. “She’s helping Cas.”

Dean launched himself out of the car, getting tangled in his seatbelt. He fell through a rosebush to sprawl onto the lawn, but didn’t bleed for long. Perks of being a demon, he thought with a grim smile. Martha Henry was nearly level with the rear bumper of the Impala when Dean got up, and he crossed the distance in one long stride to loom over the old lady.

“You’d better hurry up and tell us what you know about Cas,” he growled.

“Patience, demon-” pronounced day-mun, couldn’t have been more Texan if she’d fucking _tried_ , thought Dean “-we’ll get to that part. Y’all are gon’ be civil, now.”

“You really do want to tell him,” Sam muttered. “Dean’s a bit… hasty when it comes to Cas.”

Dean, meanwhile, had stepped back. He reeled, hunting for words. How the _hell_ did the human woman know about demons? Moreover, how did she recognize him as one, considering he wore dark glasses on a sunny day in Texas? Then he decided it didn’t matter how Martha Henry knew what he was; what mattered was Cas.

“Listen,” he said, working to make his tone civil, “there’s a time and a place for manners and here and now isn’t it. Where is she?”

“Inside, Sugah. Sleepin’ off a nasty hangovah. Y’all need a cup of tea.”

“Need something a bit stronger than that,” Dean muttered.

“Well, tea is what I have. Come on inside, now.”

Dean glanced at Gabriel, hating that he was deferring to the angel for advice on the matter. Gabe nodded and tilted his head towards the house. Dean relented and they all followed Martha inside.

“Y’all hush now, y’hear?” Martha told them as she pottered around her kitchen. “Can’t have you wakin’ miss Castielle.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam said.

“I was jes’ gettin’ ready to serve mahself some roast when your little Nephilim went trudgin’ by mah front gate, an’ I thought to mahself, what kind of a Christian would I be if I let a half-bred Angel of the Lawd find herself taken advantage of? Paducah’s a small town but every town has its dark side, so of course I couldn’t let her keep goin’. I let her use mah bathroom to get cleaned up, I fed her, an’ then I told her she could have mah spare bedroom as long as she needs it. An’ I never told anyone in town about her because it didn’t seem right.” Martha smiled brightly as she put four teacups and a pot of tea on the table. “Now, I ain’t never seen a Nephilim before, an’ only an angel once in mah life, but seems t’me Castielle burned through an awful lot of Grace, an’ that has to have effects on a Nephilim. Gal’s half human an’ humans weren’t never made to handle much Grace. Looks t’me like a hangovah, an’ so I tell y’all miss Castielle is sleepin’ one off.”

Dean fidgeted. He could feel the truth in Martha’s words but it didn’t stop him wanting to see the evidence for himself. Cas was just a few rooms away and a human woman was helping her better than he could.

“You know things about us, and Cas would never talk about this stuff to someone who didn’t already know,” Sam observed. “Are you a hunter?”

“Oh, Lawdy, boy, no, not for a very long time.” Martha laughed and pulled the handgun from her pocket, holding it by its muzzle to place it on the table. “I only have this to keep mahself safe. Mah last hunt was forty years ago. Besides, I was a woman of God long before I evah hunted a thing an’ I always knew. I knew right from when I was a little gal that there weren’t no truth to them that said monsters ain’t real. Take your angel. I see your true form, Gabriel, Angel of the Lawd. An’ yours, demon Dean. An’ there ain’t no words for how amazin’ I find y’all. An angel, a demon an’ a human all workin’ together.”

Dean shrugged. “Gabe’s useful. And Sammy likes him.”

“Likes him? Sugah, that right there’s more than ‘like’.”

Dean grimaced. “I don’t have a problem with them until they fucking make out in the back of my car.”

Martha smacked him over the back of the head. “You watch your mouth in mah house!”

He couldn’t help but stare at her. How many humans were brave enough to do _that_? “Uhhh… sorry.”

Gabriel just about pissed himself laughing. Even after Dean shot the angel a death glare straight from Hell, he only kept chuckling. It didn’t do much for Dean’s mood. He wanted to kill, to burn things…

No, he told himself sternly. He did not. That was Hell talking.

Cas drifted, halfway between sleep and wakefulness. She felt like death warmed over. A hoot of familiar laughter from the kitchen almost roused her. Gabriel was here. She hadn’t seen him since the night she had risked it all. All things considered, that wasn’t too unusual. She’d gone a lot longer without seeing a single angel before and would do again.

Vaguely, she became aware of a demonic presence in the house. A surprisingly comforting one. Forcing herself to sit up, she rubbed her eyes and then pressed the heels of her hands into her temples. Her head was in the process of exploding in slow motion… but Dean was here. Somehow his presence made her pain altogether more bearable.

She hauled herself out of bed and headed towards the kitchen, steadying herself with her wings against the walls so she wouldn’t fall. It only took a spark to Grace her feathers straight and clean, but using that tiny spark made her head throb and spin so violently she stopped dead in her tracks, one hand on her mouth, and wondered if her stomach would stay down. It did, so she stumbled onwards, letting her hand fall.

She reached the kitchen just in time to hear Martha admonishing Gabe.

“You done gone and woke her up, y’insensitive angelic fool. I told y’all to keep quiet, I did!”

Part of Cas’s mind registered the sound of a chair clattering to the floor, but that was insignificant and unimportant compared to Dean rushing to her side and holding her tight. The crackly warmth that ran through her every time he touched her banished her pain and calmed her restless stomach. She leaned into him, clinging with her wings, and whispered, “I missed you. So much.”

“Me too,” Dean mumbled. “I was so worried… _so_ worried, Cas…”

“I’m okay, Dean. I won’t Fall if I burn my Grace out…” Her stomach did a backflip and she grimaced. “This is the result of a Grace burnout. I feel terrible for a few days. I Graced away the one and only alcohol hangover I’ve had but I think it’s similar.”

“Longer lasting,” Dean muttered. “But yeah… you look hungover.”

Cas nodded carefully, trying not to set her head to spinning again, and clung to Dean like she was drowning and he was the only liferaft.

Suddenly Gabe’s familiar Grace crackled through her. She snapped her head up to stare at him. “What are you-”

“Making you feel better, what does it look like I’m doing?” Gabe’s tone and his words seemed incongruous. It was a very Gabe-ish smartass remark spoken in the caring tone of an older brother.

Cas was about ten minutes older than Gabe, but he had always been very older-brother-like. It was just him. Behind the smartassery and sass, Gabriel was probably the most caring of all their Father’s angels.

She sighed, shrugged, and went back to snuggling into Dean’s chest. She did feel better, but now all she wanted to do was go home and sleep.

Dean tossed something to Sam. Cas only realized what it was when Sam caught it; there was a metallic jingle that she would have recognized anywhere. The keys to the Impala.

“You can drive us home,” Dean said. “Gabe has shotgun as long as he can keep his hands off you.” He then turned to Martha with a smile. “Thank you for looking after Cas for me. If there’s anything we can do for you, don’t hesitate to let us know.”

Sam put a business card on the table. The only thing written on it was Dean’s phone number.

“Y’all are welcome,” Martha said, smiling brightly. “Won’t y’at least stay for dinner?”

Cas made a vaguely pleading noise. Sleep. She wanted to sleep.

“We would, but I think Cas wants to go home now.”

Cas nodded. Home. Home sounded good.

After hugs all round, Cas half-fell and was half-dragged into the back seat of the Impala. Dean slipped in beside her and watched her, unable to quite contain the smile she always brought to his face. Cas was wonderful. Everything about her was just… amazing.

It stunned him that she so determinedly laid claim to him. He was hers whether he liked it or not, and he very much liked it. He just didn’t understand why she wanted him. He wasn’t exactly prime real estate. Not for anything long-term at least, and Cas was _definitely_ thinking long term.

Dean wasn’t good at that. He’d never really gotten serious about anybody before Cas. He’d come close once or twice but hunting had always dragged him away. With Cas it seemed every hunt brought them closer. It was… weird. Good, but weird. The same thing had happened with Sam but that was a different kind of closeness. That was brotherly closeness, not this… whatever _this_ was. It was like Dean’s life depended on Cas being happy.

He sighed, then paused, surprised to hear such a contented sound come out of his own throat. Then he smiled and stroked Cas’s feathers. She was already asleep, leaning on and clinging to him like he could keep her safe from anything.

He wondered if he could keep her safe from himself.

Cas opened her eyes to blinding sunlight and Dean’s smile. If waking up like this could be a daily occurrence, she thought, she would never be sad again.

They were in a dingy little motel room, and Dean’s eyes were green and gentle and as human as she had ever seen them. For a moment she forgot he was still a demon, and then he blinked and they were black again.

“God fucking dammit!” Dean growled. “I had it for a second there.”

“Control of your eyes?” Cas mumbled.

“Yeah.”

Cas sat up, smiling. “You’ll get there. Or maybe you won’t get there before one of us comes up with something to get you human again.” He tried to hide the changes from her, but she saw  them anyway. Hell was slowly corrupting him. It wasn’t so obvious in moments like this, but then things would happen and he would think and act more like a demon than like Dean.

“You think there _is_ something?” Something flashed behind Dean’s eyes that Cas didn’t like. Perhaps it was hopelessness.

“Haven’t you learned yet? There’s always something. It’s just a matter of what we’re willing to do.” Cas shrugged and swung her legs off the bed. “I can’t speak for Sam or Gabriel but I know there’s nothing I wouldn’t do to have you human again.”

“Cas-”

“No, Dean, don’t give me that shit about you not deserving me.” She stood up and stretched until her back cracked. “This isn’t about whether you deserve me or not. It’s about what we both want. And unless you’ve changed your mind, what we both want is you to be human again.”

Dean nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, that’s… I’d rather be human. But Hellfire is kinda fun.”

“Pyro.”

“Am not!”

Cas laughed at him and headed into the kitchen. “Are too, Leather.”

“Shut up, Feathers! Just because I found one upside to a shitty situation-”

“Which happened to be fire-related,” she teased, smiling.

Dean pushed her into a wall and kissed her. She forgot about breakfast. Figuring they had about fifteen minutes before Sam wanted to get going again, she ran her fingers through Dean’s hair and her feathers down his back. There was time.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this one took so long guys! D:
> 
> Have a longer chapter to make up for it. 3100 words, this one.
> 
> Hopefully I'll be able to kick the schedule back into gear in the next couple of weeks, but I'm going back to study after that so there won't be nearly as much time for writing. Instead of aiming for a certain word count per day (which I have dismally failed at) I'll be working on it for one hour per day and committing the rest, at least what I'm not spending sleeping and at work, to study.
> 
> I haven't stopped writing. I'm a good two and a half pages into chapter 11 already.
> 
> This chapter is basically fluff. There's a little bit of pertinent information but not much so if you don't want to read Sabriel smut feel free to go ahead and skip it. It was INCREDIBLY hard to write. Between us it took my girlfriend and I until three nights ago to finish it and then it took me another two nights to actually edit! I don't like posting my unedited work because it's terrifyingly bad...
> 
> Anyway, thanks for being patient, going from 9 chapters in 10 days to it taking over a week to write and edit ONE is physically painful for me as a writer and I find it harder to cope with as a reader!

“So,” Sam said to Gabe, who was sitting on the roof of the Impala wearing one of Sam’s plaid shirts, “how long do you think they’ll be?”

“At least an hour,” Gabe replied gleefully. “We might as well leave them to it. Going on Castielle’s Grace, we might even want to get out of the area for a while.”

Sam grimaced. Dean and Cas were sickeningly cute together, and Cas’s lack of Grace control was quite frankly embarrassing for everyone in the area remotely sensitive to energies. Sam occasionally had visions because of it and they were things he did not want to see his big brother doing. “Yeah,” he agreed. “Probably a good idea. Dean’ll murder me if we take the Impala, though…”

“Easy,” Gabe said with a grin. Suddenly, the angel was standing next to Sam, and an instant later, they were alone in the bunker.

Back home, Sam thought, a little surprised. Gabriel could have taken him anywhere in the world and had chosen to take him back to the bunker?

“We might as well use this time to do something constructive,” Gabe said, picking up a book.

“Thinking is impossible with you around,” Sam complained, but he found his book on demons and let it fall open to the same page as always. The page regarding humans who’d been turned into demons.

His angel shot him a dazzling smile. Sam blinked stupidly for a few seconds before hauling his mind back on track again. There had to be a solution in here somewhere. A cure.

There was nothing. He knew that as well as anybody. He could recite this particular page word for word without pause, he’d read it that many times since Dean had become a demon.

Finally he closed the book again with an irritated groan. “I don’t think anyone’s ever successfully done what we’re trying to do.”

“Cured a demon of being a demon? Of course they haven’t. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done.” Gabe shrugged. “Might have to march on Hell itself.”

Sam made a face. “The things I do for my brother.”

“Nearly equal to the things he’s done for you, I think.” Gabe leaned against a wall, holding the book he’d grabbed open in one hand and turning pages with the other. “We should be able to restore Dean’s humanity. I might have to call in a few favors, and you should understand that I will be risking a Fall… but it can be done. Throw enough Grace at a problem and it usually works itself out.”

Sam blinked. He had never thought Gabriel would risk Falling for his sake, much less Dean’s. “Gabe… you don’t have to-”

“You understand less than you think, it seems. I do have to.” Gabe closed the book and put it away, crossing the room in three long strides. “For a smart human, you miss things with exceptional regularity.”

Sam’s breath caught in his throat. “Gabe…”

“Castielle rebelled for your brother. That was foolish, but… I understand why she did it. I would rebel for you.”

Sam blushed and looked away. Gabe’s fingers knotted into his hair and forced him to stare into the angel’s eyes. He swallowed nervously.

Why the fuck was he nervous, anyway? It wasn’t like the thought of Gabe touching him was new.

Sam gently freed himself and took Gabe’s hand. “So you think my brother can be saved.”

“I do, yes.” The angel nodded. “I can’t make any promises, but if we aren’t instantly destroyed the moment we set foot in Hell, I can at least try.”

“I love you,” Sam blurted.

“Stupid of you,” Gabe commented. “But you’re not the first.”

“I _will_ be the last,” Sam growled, shoving Gabe up against the wall and kissing him roughly. The angel gave as good as he got. Gabe pulled Sam’s hair and each let out a feral groan of lust into the hunter’s mouth.

They were in Sam’s bedroom, having moved there so quickly it made his head spin. Gabe fumbled with Sam’s shirt, then gave up and tore it open. He raked his nails down the hunter’s chest then shoved him down onto the bed.

It was always a battle for dominance and this time was no different. Gabe’s teeth sank into Sam’s shoulder. Sam bit the angel’s neck. Gabriel cursed in Enochian and moaned Sam’s name, clawing at the tall Winchester’s back.

Already half-hard, Sam shuddered and slipped one finger under Gabe’s waistband.

The angel flipped him onto his back and pinned him down. Teeth latched onto Sam’s collarbone. Insane with lust, he bucked beneath his angel. More. He wanted more.

“You’re needy today, Sammy,” Gabe chuckled, voice deep and rough with desire. He nipped Sam’s ear, then bit deep into the pulse point on his neck.

Sam cried out in mingled pain and ecstasy. Gabe puffed out a long breath, the air hot against Sam’s shoulder, and then trailed bites down the Winchester’s chest, hands skimming over Sam’s ribs.

Sam bit his lip as his angel moved down his stomach. Soft hair touching his skin, which was so raw with sensation it felt like it wasn’t there. His whole body tingled with so much feeling, and yet, so little.

He started giggling when Gabriel nibbled somewhere on the side of his abs, tickling his sensitive skin.

“Now, Sammy…” Gabriel muttered, his fingers slid beneath the denim of his jeans, and moved his whole body up to kiss Sam again, unbuttoning the clothing item.

Sammy growled against the angel’s lips, hands grabbing hips and pressing them against himself, but not wanting to keep him there. Not for long.

“Wow, slow down cowboy. I have other ideas…” Gabriel pulled away, smirking, his hazel eyes darkening with every touch his body received from the hunter’s experienced hands.

“Like what?” Sam feigned innocence, but the slight movements of his hips told Gabriel everything. In reply, the fuzzy-chinned face just parted his lips, only teasing the view of his tongue running across his thin wet and pink lips. Sam stared, his hands trailing up those shoulder blades.

But the angel didn’t reply, instead bending forward to kiss Sam’s neck. He trailed his lips down his hunter’s body, across sweet spots, enjoying every gasp that ripped from the human’s throat.

“Sh-shit Gabe…. your _hair_ ,” Sam moaned, writhing.

The angel continued, taking off the jeans, then mouthing the soft fabric covering Sam’s cock, which made the young Winchester roll his hips quite erotically.

“Okay, I like your plan…” Sam groaned. His angel just chuckled darkly.

“Watch me, Sam…” Gabe looked up, grinning when Sam shifted to a half-sitting position and locked half-lidded eyes with the angel. Gabriel winked then bent down to lick a trail alongside the waistband of the fabric, which was sexy as hell in its own right, but then Gabriel bit the edge of the fabric and looked up to Sam as he started pulling it down his legs.

Sam inhaled sharply. Holy _shit_.

Gabriel kissed him again, his hand grabbing Sam’s hair roughly. He bent back down and wrapped his warm fingers around Sam’s boner and started sliding his hand over it, slowly at first, watching Sam plead with his “puppy eyes”.

“Not gonna work, Sammy boy. You’re mine tonight…” Gabriel moved his hand lower down Sammy’s shaft and pressed the head against his cheek, rubbing it softly across his stubbly chin.

Sammy let out a drawn-out, dirty whimper and arched his hips into Gabriel’s face. The angel responded by trailing his wet tongue down the hunter’s full length, then rubbing it back across his own chin. Sam’s hands were twitching. But Gabriel didn’t want to to be touched, not right now. He was in complete control.

 

Gabriel pressed himself against the bed as he took Sammy’s cock into his mouth, let his tongue slide under the warm, pre-cum-streaked skin and hummed, taking him only only about halfway.

“Gabe….” Sam whispered, letting his head fall back. Gabriel just exhaled and started to slowly move him mouth over the large member. Sam looked up again and bit his lip, grinning.

Gabriel kept sucking. Sam made small moaning noises, enough to encourage him to continue. Gabe’s fingers wrapped around Sam’s back and scratched the skin spreading around to his toned stomach, wanting to surround his Winchester in sensation.

Sam writhed underneath the touch, goosebumps erupting all over his body, and every nerve jangled with sensation.

Gabriel pulled himself off Sammy’s erection with a _pop_. “Oh, Sammy… aren’t you a wriggler?” he teased, running his palms up and down his human’s shaft.

The hunter just laughed and then hissed as Gabe’s hand slid around the inside of his upper thighs, brushing his sensitised scrotum.

Sam moaned and sat himself up against the headboard, letting the angel crawl up the bed to continue. He pulled Gabriel up by his hair and pressed lips against lips, smooth skin against teasingly ticklish stubble.

“I’m close… Gabe…” Sam moaned, still kissing Gabriel, nibbling softly on the angel’s lip.

“Well come on Sammy, time’s a wastin…” Gabe quipped cheekily, pumping Sam’s cock harder. It didn’t take long before the taller of the two cried out, fingers pressed into Gabriel’s hair and hips, muttering incoherent sweet nothings.

 

Gabriel released him and lay down on the bed, listening to his lover’s ragged breathing. He rested his hands behind his head and glanced at his beloved.

After a few moments, Sam took one long exhale and rolled over, switching to sitting over Gabriel on his knees. Hazel eyes stared up to his own.

“Recovery time over?” Gabriel grinned. Sam looked at him defiantly. He moved further up the angel’s body and started fumbling with the buttons of his own red and black plaid shirt.

Gabriel chuckled and pulled his arms free, one hand sliding around the Winchester’s wrist.

“Let me help….” He started slowly undoing the first button, looking up at Sam then back down again. The second button followed soon after, and then he started on the third.

Sam growled and pushed Gabe’s hands away before grabbing both sides and ripping the shirt apart. Gabriel’s reaction of dismay was immediately intercepted by Sam’s mouth biting along his jawbone, trailing upwards to a clashing of mouths.

“That was my favorite shirt!” Gabriel exclaimed when Sam broke away.

Sam kissed him, this time slowly, other hand skillfully unzipping the jeans enslaving the sensual animal underneath the fabric.

Gabriel kissed back, patient as ever. Sam moved off and grabbed the belt that lay on the ground somewhere, tying it around the angel’s wrists with two difficult knots paired in the design.

Gabriel squirmed in his position and flexed his fingers underneath the leather. It might have held a human. The angel knew he could break it, but decided not to.

“Naughty Sammy…” he murmured, spreading his legs. His jeans were slid off and thrown away, landing against the gun Sammy kept in the room.

Sam bent forward and kissed Gabriel again, then moved down his heaving chest, hair trailing across the angel’s skin. Gabe shuddered and gasped, aching for more. More what he didn’t care. Just more Sam. More, what did the other Winchester call him, Sasquatch?

Gabe’s hazel eyes wandered over Sam’s bare chest. There was a little hair there, but Gabe didn’t really see the resemblance between Sam Winchester and a giant ape-man. Other than the giant part, _seriously_ , the size of the guy’s cock…

Sam’s fingers kneaded Gabe’s buttocks, putting an end to _that_ train of thought. The angel found himself lost to sensation which only intensified when Sam brushed fingers lightly across his entrance.

“Don’t bother prepping me,” Gabe groaned. He had complete control over his Vessel and he did not want to wait.

Sam just chuckled and lubed up his fingers anyway. Gabriel wanted to stay casually sarcastic about this but the slow, sweet torture of having Sam tease his hole was too much. He squirmed and whimpered. “S-Sam!”

“You want me inside, huh?” Sam grinned wickedly and brushed his fingers over Gabe’s prostate, making the angel let out a long, guttural moan.

Gabe didn’t swear. Ever. But desperation prompted him to shout, “Just fuck me already!”

Sam chuckled but didn’t do as Gabe begged him to, instead continuing to tease the angel.

“Oh Sammy, you’re not hard anymore…” the angel realized with a bemused pout. When the Winchester groaned in annoyance, he just smiled.

“I’ll change that for you…” Gabriel stroked the limp member and Graced Sam back to readiness. He silently thanked his own angel power and smiled.

Sam positioned himself, moving the angel’s legs over his knees and sliding his fingers teasingly over Gabe’s inner thighs.

Sam then pressed home, watching Gabriel’s jaw fall open in pleasure. He pulled out of the warmth, then thrusted back in and watched his angel squirm. His hands trailed again all over Gabriel, trying to pass on the feeling he had experienced earlier. His skin _still_ tingled from the high.

Gabriel whimpered and pinned his back into the bed as Sam began a steady rhythm, pounding into his angel hard and fast.

“Oh, Gabe…” Sam was grateful for his lover’s powers. If not for hunting, they could have constant sex for days on end.

The angel moved his belt-tied hands up and pulled Sam down to kiss him, scratching down the hunter’s toned chest and moaning in time with the movements of their bodies.

Sam pinned Gabriel’s hand behind his head again, tutting. His angel pouted. Gabe’s fingers silently beckoned his hunter closer but Sam would have none of it.

“Oh come on Sammy, apparently you like me on top.” Gabriel sighed, shutting his eyes as Sam closed his fist around the angel’s erection.

“Not all the time.”

Gabriel chuckled and bucked his hips underneath the hunter, forcing him to keep up the pace. Sam held onto Gabriel’s hips and pushed even deeper into the angel, earning grunts and soft moans.

“Oh, Sam! Harder!” Gabriel panted, holding Sam inside him with his legs. He needed more stimulation, more movement. More _Sam_. The angel looked up to see his Winchester giving all he got, exhaling expertly slowly. Sex with an angel was about as time-consuming as fornication with a human female. It took patience to push the Graced body into an orgasm. More so, if one wanted to leave the other participant still shaking after their high. The best part of post-sex was sending aftershocks through one’s partner’s body with a brush of one’s fingertips.

Sam was still struggling to continue his rhythm without orgasming a second time before his lover did. He concentrated on the feel of his hands pushing Gabriel’s down, letting little groans of pleasure escape his own mouth.

Sam covered his lips with the angel’s. Gabriel kissed back, softly biting his lips when he pulled back slightly.

“Ugh, please…” Gabriel signalled, one hand slipped out of his restraint and he pulled Sam’s hair, knotting some strands around one of his fingers.

Sam sighed, releasing his hands and gently lying across the angel, gripping his shoulders as he steadied his knees on the bed. He angled his pelvis and pushed deeper between Gabriel’s cheeks, letting his partner sob and plead, whispering for him to finish them both off.

“Yes! Oh, Sammy…!”

The Winchester grinned, his own climax growing. He bent down and nibbled on the ear of the male below him.

“Come for me, Gabe…” he growled. The angel gasped and shivered, before moaning loudly and pushing his hips into Sam’s. He roughly used his escaped hand to scratch the hunter’s back, intent on leaving a mark. Of evidence and pure ownership.

Sam rode out Gabriel’s orgasm slowly, until his own body convulsed and came into his angel’s vessel, panting. His breath left light goosebumps on the angel’s skin.

“Now, wasn’t that more exciting than research?” Gabriel queried, holding Sam’s neck tenderly. The hunter just grunted and slumped onto the chest underneath him, burying himself into the warmth.

“I wanna sleep…”

Gabe laughed. “No time for that, Sleeping Beauty.”

 

“Where…?” Cas arched an eyebrow and tilted her head, lips pursed in confusion. There was no sign of Sam or Gabriel anywhere near the Impala. She couldn’t feel Gabe’s Grace, which meant he was nowhere within about two hundred miles.

“Least they didn’t take the car,” Dean muttered, stroking his Baby.

Cas would have been worried if not for Dean’s total nonchalance. She figured he probably knew something she didn’t. If Dean wasn’t concerned about Sam’s absence, neither should Cas be.

She slipped into the ‘shotgun’ seat - which still confused her; why call it shotgun? - and made herself comfortable, turning to smile at Dean. His expression was unreadable, at least to her, and what her Grace picked up only jumbled her thoughts. She understood demons, on the whole, but Dean wasn’t a normal demon and she didn’t have a lot of experience with Knights of Hell. What little she _did_ have was very much not consistent with what she saw now. Mostly.

Occasionally - and this worried her - Dean would show more demonic thinking patterns. She wasn’t sure if that was normal, or if it was really something to be concerned about, but that didn’t matter. Fear was not rational.

Dean leaned over and hugged her. Cas sensed Gabe’s Grace and an instant later, Dean yelped and sat up straight in the driver’s seat.

“Dammit, Gabe!”

“I think you’ll find that’s my Father’s job,” Gabe quipped, grinning.

“Where _were_ you?”

“At the bunker,” Sam said with a faint pink tinge to his cheeks. “Doing research.” He ran one hand through his hair, smoothing it down.

Cas had seen enough porn to know that Sam’s messy hair could only mean one thing. “Research” was hazel-eyed and distinctly angelic and his name was Gabriel.

“Research, Sam? Really?” Dean raised an eyebrow, amused. “Last I checked, ‘research’ was books, not angels.”

“Dean!” Sam pulled the face Dean always referred to as his “bitchface” and slid into the back seat, followed by Gabe, who was still smiling like the cat that got the cream.

Dean didn’t complain about their constant making-out once during the drive back to the bunker. Cas, however, kept shifting in her seat until finally her brother and Sam became too much for her to bear and she phased her wings through her seat, smacking Sam over the head.

“If you two don’t stop, Sam can have the shotgun seat,” she huffed. “Sitting next to Dean isn’t worth having to deal with _this_.”

“Spoilsport,” Gabe said, mock-pouting.

Sam bitchfaced. Cas glared at him until he relented, then turned back around to stare out the windscreen as Baby ate up the miles.


End file.
